


To Love a Borgia

by martykate



Category: The Borgias (2011)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-06
Updated: 2017-06-30
Packaged: 2018-05-05 08:00:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 33
Words: 72,573
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5367608
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/martykate/pseuds/martykate
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Consuelo Borgia has loved her cousin Cesare all her life. Though her parents returned to Spain when she was eight, she has not forgotten him, she is still his little puppy, idolizing him. She does not know how to be any other way. But she is eighteen now, and a widow. She returns to her family after her husband dies, not knowing quite what to do. She engages in an affair with a local smith, but must break it off when her family finds out. Her family are trying to pressure her into re-marrying, but since she will not give in to their demands, her family sends her to Rome to live with her Uncle Roderigo, now Pope Alexander VI. She is both excited and fearful at the prospect of living with her family in Italy. The pope's mistress, Vanozza, was always kind to her, and she will see her cousins Lucrezia, Juan--and Cesare again after ten long years. But it is Cesare she desires to see again. She is no longer a child, she is a woman, a widow. Will Cesare see her with the same eyes, or will he see her for what she is--a woman with desires who has never stopped loving him?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. My Dark Dream Lover

**Author's Note:**

> Warning: Spanking, non-consensual

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Consuelo de la Borja is being sent to Rome by her father, Carlos, who is the younger brother of Pope Alexander VI. She has not seen her cousins Cesare, Juan, and Lucrezia for ten years. She is a widow now, and has lost a child. A new life awaits her in Rome, but will she rise to the challenge? And will she find love with Cesare, whom she idolized as a child? Good things await but she must see for herself

Consuelo de la Borja, soon to be known as Constanzia Borgia, was stealing one last tryst with her lover before her family sent her away to Rome, to live with her uncle, Pope Alexander Sixtus. It’s so unfair, she thought, as she drifted off the sleep, Pablo is a worthy man, worthy enough to marry the niece of Valencia’s Borgia pope, even if he is only a humble sword maker. Besides, his swords are famous all over Spain, even the king and Queen, Ferdinand and Isabella, have both commissioned blades from him.

Pablo’s personal sword had worked its magic on Consuelo, and she was drifting off to sleep in the heat of the afternoon. Surely she deserved her independence; she was a widow now, no longer the child who had married into a prominent family in Toledo. I ought to run away, she thought, I have the money they returned to me from my dowry as my widow’s portion, I can go anywhere I like.

She nestled into Pablo’s comfortable bed, falling so gently asleep that she was not even aware when she began dreaming—the same dream she had had since her family announced they were sending her to Rome. A simple dream, really, where all was dark, but the bed was soft and warm, as was the body she could feel hovering above her. She put out her hand to touch his face, finding smooth skin and the soft hairs of a scant beard that covered part of his jaw and his chin.

“Querida, do you not remember me?” the voice whispered gently. She could feel his hands, touching her breasts, now putting his mouth on them, driving her wild with desire. His hands stroked her silky thighs, then his hand gently but insistently pushed them apart, and he pushed himself into her and began to move, gently at first, then rougher, firmer.  
  
“You’re mine, little deer, all mine, have you forgotten? You said you would always love me, must I remind you?” His voice tickled her ears and he put his lips on hers, opening her mouth and teasing her with his tongue. 

When he was about to bring her to her peak of passion, the thing happened that always happened with this dream. She opened her eyes and sat up, forgetting for a moment where she was. She was lost now without that dream and began to weep.

She looked over at Pablo, snoring contentedly. She realized now what she thought had been love had only been a way to pass the time, to drive away the memory of her husband and the child she had lost. It was not Pablo, handsome though he was and kindness itself. Pablo would never be enough; her dream had told her so. Rome, then, would be her fate.

She dressed quickly, and threw a light shawl over her head and left him for the last time. Being in the heat did not bother her, for was she not part Turkish from her mother and Spanish from her father. Her brown hair, “Borgia Brown” as her mother called it, showed hints of gold from the Valencian sunshine. Her eyes were a dark amber brown, so unlike the eyes of her other relatives, she had inherited her womanly curves from her mother. She knew she was lovely, but would her cousin Cesare find her so?

She had not seen him since she was eight years old, and like her, he would surely have grown up. She remembered the tall boy with the warm ivory skin and dark brown hair like hers. He was taller than his brother Juan, and better looking, though both Borgia boys were considered nothing less than handsome. Their sister Lucrezia was all white and gold, with angelic blue eyes. When she stood next to Lucrezia, she looked like the Moorish maid of a Renaissance angel, but she’d never minded. She loved her cousins above all else, even God, though Cesare told her that was sinful.

Her father, Carlos, had come to Rome with his brother when he was made Cardinal. He had met and married the half Turkish maiden, Sofia, and had begun his family, as well as starting a merchant house under the name of “Borgia”. Like his brother, he found success, but not acceptance, and when his youngest daughter, Constanzia, was eight years old he had moved the family back to Spain where he found the favor of the queen and a much friendlier climate.

Consuelo ordered her bath, and when finished, changed into a fresh gown, her mind still not leaving her memories of her cousins. Lucrezia she had adored, Juan she had hated and the two fought like cats. Cesare would watch amused, until it looked like blood would soon be shed, then with a threat to tell both their mothers, would send them off. None of them ever questioned Cesare’s authority, she was sure that much had not changed. Was Cesare not destined to take the cloth? How would that change him, for even at twelve Cesare had begun to slip away with the servant girls, emerging with a smile on his face that let the younger two know he was on the brink of manhood.

She sighed, thinking about her dream. Was there a man alive who could make her feel the way her dream lover did? She did not think so. She had loved her husband, and had found satisfaction in the arms of Pablo, but her dream lover made her feel as no one else did.

She made excuses even she did not believe about missing the afternoon meal. Did they expect that she had been with Pablo? Did they know? Did they have her followed? Surely they would know she would see him one last time.

She tried to play the dutiful daughter as she sat down for the light supper they took in the evening. She made one last futile attempt to avoid the inevitable. “Papa, there is so much fighting going on now in Italy; surely it would be safer for me to remain in Spain, yes?”

“Your cousin Juan is leading the Papal Armies, and Rome is protected by high walls. It has not been invaded in centuries. Besides, you need a change of scenery, verdad? There is no smile on your face anymore; you refuse any suitors who come to court you. Come, come, your uncle is now Pope; you will be able to attract a level of suitor you could not here. Lucrezia, Juan and Cesare are bastards, while you are not. “

"What difference does that make? I lost my child, and then my husband shortly after. We Spanish are too bloodthirsty; we don’t turn away from a war if it’s offered. If we had, my husband might still be alive.”

Her mother spoke, beautiful after seven pregnancies, and seven healthy children, said, “But you are young, mija, there is still time for children. You are young, you are beautiful, you will have no problem finding a husband who will love you. It is too bad that you and Cesare are related so closely, we could have arranged a marriage for you with him and he need not have taken orders. You were always so fond of each other. He was devoted to you and so sad to lose you when we returned to Spain. He will make sure you are happy, do not worry.”

Cesare! How she had loved him. Would he approve of her now that she was no longer his little pet? He was her handsome prince from the fairy tales Vanozza and Tamara would read them. She had been so happy in Rome, once. Maybe her father was right, her happiness no longer resided in Spain, so she must find it there in Rome.

 

They had sent her by ship; it was the lesser of two evils. Bandits, overland, pirates at sea, it made little difference, but the trip had been easier over the water. Fortunately, she was not prone to seasickness, but had helped nurse other passengers no so fortunate.

The Pope had sent an armed guard to meet her, along with a litter and wagons for her baggage. She wished that she could have ridden, but was told that would not be seemly for a young lady. She shook her head, seemly. If only they knew the young lady had been carrying on an affair with a swordsmith—would that have made her less “seemly”.

She arrived in Rome late in the afternoon. “We will be taking you to the Lady Vanozza’s house,” a captain told her, and she had to suppress a giggle. Vanozza had been a courtesan before she met Rodrigo Borgia, but it had worked out very well for him. She was devoted to the Pope, who loved her and her children dearly in return. Her uncle, no, “The Holy Father”, as she must now accustom herself to thinking of him, had loved his younger brother and his family almost unreservedly. He had been upset when the family returned to Spain, but had understood the why.

The litter pulled up in front of a beautiful house, more like a palace than her parents’ simple house on their estate in the Valencia countryside. There stood the Borgias, all of them, plus Vanozza, to greet her.

How Uncle Rodrigo had changed! She curtseyed low and knelt before him to kiss his ring. “Holy Father,” she murmured softly.

He raised her up and took her in his strong arms and hugged her. “My, how you have grown, and into such a beauty, though I never doubted it. You may greet your Aunt Vanozza now; she has been eagerly awaiting your arrival, along with the rest of us.” He sounded more than a little pompous, but he had always had that air.

Perhaps her golden hair had faded a little, and there were a few wrinkles in her face that Consuelo did not remember, but Vanozza deii Cantaneii was still beautiful and formidable. She had always liked that about her. Vanozza drew her into her loving arms and kissed her on both cheeks, “You are such a young lady now, I will have to get used to it,” she said and laughed.

Lucrezia could be held back no longer. “Cousin!” she cried delightedly, “You look more like a Moorish princess than ever! I am so glad to have you here; it is like having a long lost sister return.” She hugged and kissed her with all the enthusiasm of her fourteen years, and Consuelo could not help responding in kind.

Juan stood stiffly, kissed her cheek dutifully, but it was clear he was no less hostile than he had been as a boy. Thank goodness you are my cousin, she thought, if they tried to marry us we would attempt to tear the other to pieces. She still did not like Juan Borgia, nor did she trust him, not one little bit.

She turned and looked at Cesare—when had he grown so tall? And; well, manly? His eyes, as blue as Lucrezia’s, look at her fondly as he held out his arms. She rushed into them, forgetting that she was no longer the eight year old girl who had cried when they had separated her from him, but now a woman grown, and a widow as well.

He held her closely to him, perhaps too closely, but she didn’t mind. She had always felt safe in his arms and that had not changed, but there was a gleam in his eye that she did not recognize. He was so handsome that he took her breath away, unaware all the while of the look he was giving her.

“Bella,” he whispered and squeezed her tightly, “I will not let you get away this time, I promise.”

Vanozza put a hand on her shoulder, “Come, pet, we will prepare you a bath, you must be tired from your journey. You can wear one of my gowns, though you have grown so tall, I hope it fits. Cesare,” she said with meaning, “Make sure that her luggage is put in her room.” She swept her niece away from him, not revealing her alarm over the exchange that had gone on between them. She took her upstairs where the maids were pouring hot water into the tub, then helped remove the blue dress she had traveled in from Ostia.

The Pope did not join them for dinner that night, but they spent the evening as they had so many times before she returned to Spain. She and Juan were now old enough to eat at the grown up’s table, as she had always called it. It was good to be with her cousins again, but she already missed her parents and her brothers as they conducted lively arguments at the dinner table, drawing the disapproval of her mother.

She tried hard not to look at Cesare, but it was hard not to. When he caught her eye he would give her a little secret smile that made her glad her ivory tinted skin was not so prone to blushes as Lucrezia’s cream and roses complexion might. She was accustomed to the frank, open stare of Pablo, or the looks of affection her husband would give her, but this was something different. And she was feeling something that she could not quite put a name to, somehow she wanted Cesare to kiss her, and not just the affectionate kiss of a cousin—and that was a sin. Cesare was a member of the clergy, however much his elegant black outfit might deny it. 

The wine, the journey, the company, the fatigue were all contributing to an overwhelming tiredness that she could not fight. Vanozza saw this, and ordered the maids to put her to bed. Juan gave her a chaste kiss on the cheek, but Cesare chose to kiss her lips, a kiss that lingered a fraction too long without drawing the attention of his mother.

She was swept up to her room, undressed and put into bed, falling asleep almost before her head hit the pillow. She slept the sleep of the exhausted, deep and dreamless, until something woke her up. She stared around her shadowy room. Even the drawn shutters could not completely shut out the light from the full moon that shone without.

She could not go back to sleep, even worse, she suddenly felt homesick and she found herself missing Pablo, her family, her lost baby, and her husband. The tears fell unbidden, and as she wiped them aside, she decided not to remain in her room, but to go outside to the little fountain in the courtyard. She wrapped a shawl around her shoulders and unlocked her door, walking softly down the hall until she found the great door that lead outside.


	2. The Cardinal and the Lady

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cesare continues to press his suit, and, he is realizing, this goes far beyond lust. He is pleased at how the little cousin he knew has grown into such a lovely woman, as beautiful as his beloved Lucrezia. He pushes ahead with his suit, determined that he will have her because he wants her. She, on the other hand, is more practical. She will not be content to merely satisfy his lust, if she is to risk everything, it must be something more. They cannot marry, they are too close in kindred, but he will make her his acknowledged mistress, if they can find a way to get permission from the Pope and her father.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I thought long and hard about writing this with an O/C. I decided there was room in Cesare's life for his love for his sister, and a beloved cousin. Let everyone else write about Lucrezia and Cesare, I, as usual, wanted to do something different. Without including spoilers, I saw a way to navigate this, and I am hoping I can make it work--and write a story that is worth while.

Cesare was watching Lucrezia and Constanzia play in the courtyard. “Try and catch me, Cesare,” little Constanzia called, and he took off after his cousin, not too quickly, for she must think that she had led him on a merry chase before he caught her. What was it about little girls that was so unconsciously seductive, he thought. While he would never, ever do anything to harm either Constanzia or Lucrezia, he could understand how some men lusted after them. It was his responsibility, therefore, to watch over them, making sure that no one hurt them, not even himself.

“Caught you,” he laughed as he swept up Constanzia, “Now you must give me a kiss.” Trustingly, she put her arms his neck and kissed his mouth, then snuggled in his arms. It was too bad he and Constanzia were so closely related, if not, he would talk to his mother and see if she would be willing to help arrange a match between them. Constanzia would grow into a beauty, and he would hate to see her in the arms of another man. He wanted her all to himself, just as he wanted Lucrezia.

 

Now Cesare was watching an older Constanzia in the same courtyard. She was wearing nothing but her shift, with a shawl wrapped around her. He should take her back upstairs, but he could not keep his eyes from her as she stood in the moonlight, staring at the water in the fountain. “Catch me, Cesare,” he murmered as he strode towards where she stood.

The tears were coming and she could not stop them, nor did she wish to. Her shoulders shook as she wept, and she had the wisdom to let them stop of their own accord. What had she done? She should not have given Pablo up so easily, she should have fought for him. Now she was in a strange country, surrounded by family she barely knew. The only thing that was familiar was the fat moon overhead, the same as must be shining in Valencia.

Someone came up behind her, and put his arms around her waist. She recognized his scent, the familiar aroma of leather and cologne. “Cesare,” she said softly.

Carefully, not wanting to scare her, he put his lips on her cheek, then moved them down her neck, pulling the shawl away from her shoulders so his hands could find her breasts.

“No,” she said, and put her hand on his.

“No? What’s wrong, little cousin, are you still a little girl and not a woman after all?” he taunted.

“You fool,” she twisted in his arms so she could face him, “Do you think I can afford to chance a pregnancy, especially your child? What man would not put me aside if he discovered I was carrying a child that was not his? I can’t afford a scandal, you know that, nor can I become your mistress.”

“Well, you are a woman born, after all.” She could see the white gleam of his teeth as he smiled in the moonlight. “You have learned a great deal of sense, but I think your pretty breasts will regret your not letting me caress them, as will your silky thighs. I can wait, they’ll marry off Lucrezia before they find a husband for you, so I can take my time. But remember,” he drew her into his arms and kissed her, hard, “I’ll wait only for so long. I can’t marry you, signora, but I intend to love you before I let any other man have you.” He let her go and disappeared into the shadows.

His kiss had left her breathless and she leaned against the fountain for support. Oh my, she thought, I had not known, I did not expect…I want him, but I won’t be Cesare Borgia’s toy. If he wants someone he can pick up and put down when he’s tired of her, he can hire a prostitute. You want him, he made you weak in the knees, but he’ll play with you. I want someone who will love me, not set me aside when he wants to move on to a new amusement.

She went back to her room, but she did not find sleep, nor did it find her. When she looked in her mirror the next morning, there were violet shadows under her eyes. If this is what you did to me, Cesare, she thought, I hope the same thing happened to you.

Vannozza and Lucrezia did not seem to notice the conversation seemed subdued as they sat around the breakfast table. They chatted carelessly, while Consuelo kept her gaze on her plate, only occasionally working up the courage to look at Cesare. He, too, at least, had shadows under his eyes, and if she contributed to that, then she was happy.

“Mother, if you have no objections, I would like to take the girls riding. I think Consuelo would benefit from the exercise after being cooped up on ship and the ride in the litter. If Lucrezia has any lessons, surely she can be spared from them. Consuelo is looking pale, and I think a ride would put color back in her cheeks.” He looked at Consuelo as he said this, and she thought to herself, say “no” Aunt Vannozza, please say no! But she was to be disappointed. 

“Do you not have things to do, my son? You are being invested as Cardinal soon.” she asked innocently enough. If he wanted to take the girls riding, that was fine, but it would not be unescorted. He shook his head. Liar, she thought, then said out loud, “Then I have no objections, Cesare, I am sure the girls will enjoy it. I will send the servants along with a picnic lunch for you. You can show Consuelo that little ruin that you found, if she does not remember it.”

Trapped, thought Consuelo, but I won’t be alone with him, at least. Are you up to something, Cesare?

“Good,” he stood up, “Girls, go put on your riding habits and I will have the horses saddled. You still ride, do you not, Consuelo?” he asked, but he did not wait for her answer. He kissed his mother and left the room and she could not help watching him under her lashes.

She not only rode, she rode like a child of the desert. Moorish blood flowed in Borgia veins, no matter how they tried to deny it. Though her father was not as wealthy as his brother Rodrigo, they still kept nice horses for their family. She’d learned to ride in Italy, and had become an expert horsewoman in Spain. She’d had to leave her beautiful Arabian mare behind. Maybe her father could ship Hadba to her, or maybe Uncle Rodrigo…er his Holiness, would find another for her.

On horseback she forgot being tired. The three rode recklessly, the girls’ riding habits billowing around them. From where she sat, Italy seemed a lot like Spain, only greener. They rode past the ruins of aqueducts, and old temples, much like those in the Spanish countryside. This was something she had forgotten, the sheer beauty of Italy. She missed the Moorish architecture, but much of she saw reminded her of home.

They reached a shady little hollow, with green grass for the horses to graze. Cesare took the girls by their hands and led them to the ruins of a little temple, complete with the remains of an altar that had been ravaged by the Goths when they swept Italy.

It was open to the sky, and a ray of sunshine lit the altar. “Oh, Cesare, why did you not show me this when I lived here?” She wandered around, harboring girlish pictures of white clad priestesses sacrificing the first fruits of the harbor on the altar made of golden marble.

He took a risk, and put his hand on her shoulder. “When you were little, I could not take you here, but I told you about it. Then, Mama read you the story of Ceres and Persephone—do you not remember?”

She shook her head, “No, but my childhood memories are crowded with beautiful things. My first communion in Saint Peters, His Holiness playing tag with me, riding my pony, going to the market. We had such a happy childhood, didn’t we, Cesare? My only sad memory was leaving Italy for Spain, but then I fell in love with Spain, too.” She was silent for a moment, and he wondered what she was thinking. “I think the only bad thing that ever happened to me was the death of my husband.”

Lucrezia had wandered off, leaving the two alone. “What do you want, Cesare, I thought I made myself plain last night. I won’t be your toy and I won’t be your mistress. I was a wife once,” she held up the hand that still wore her wedding ring, “And I’d just as soon be a wife again.”

“You could, if that’s what you want, but I offer you something better. Be my mistress, my acknowledged mistress—you’ll have more freedom than a wife. I’ll find you a house and put it in your name so no one can take it from you. I’ll have our children legitimized, and they’ll be Roman citizens. Look at my mother—see how happy she is? When we’re over, if we ever are, I’ll settle an income on you, and make sure you are taken care of. You’re not made to be a wife, you have too much spirit. I won’t ever try to suppress that fire in you.”

She was about to say, “Are you so sure?” when Lucrezia returned. “Lunch is served,” she announced, “A veritable feast! Fresh bread, cheese, fruit, chicken, and a good red wine. I’m ravenous, let’s eat.”

She and Cesare were silent as they followed her. Lucrezia could sense something was wrong, but said nothing. Plates were filled with food, goblets of wine filled and refilled, and they busied themselves with eating so they did not have to talk. 

Consuelo put down her napkin, and stood up. She held out a hand to Cesare, “I want to look at the ruins again, will you come with me?” He took her proffered hand, and they made their way back to the little temple.

He was no less than surprised when she took him in her arms and kissed him. “Are you sure?” she asked him, “Are you sure you want me? I’m very demanding and will not settle for being treated badly. What makes you so sure you can give me what I want?”

He pressed her close to him. “I have more money than you think. In a few days I will be a Cardinal, a prince of the church, with an income that will go with it. And I found a house, a nice one, with plenty of room for the children we’ll have. I can take care of you, Consuelo, you don’t have to marry just because they want you to.” He did not have to say who “they” were.

She pulled away from him, gently, “A mistress gives up a lot, Cesare, and doesn’t have the protections that a wife has. And few men remain with their mistresses forever. And what happens to her then?”

“There’s a certain prestige attached to having been the paramour of a Pope, or even a Cardinal. And you won’t be left destitute, I’ll see to that.”

“Yes, so will my father and Uncle Rodrigo, you can be sure of that. How do you know that we would even be allowed to do this? My father wanted me to marry, not to become your mistress, I am sure. And Cesare,” she paused, “You have not said the one thing that would make me even consider it.”

“You mean, do I love you?” He picked her up by the waist and spun her around, “I love you to distraction. I cannot bear to even think of another man having you. If we were not cousins, and I not a Cardinal, I would marry you, but I can’t. Please, say yes, cousin, tell me you’ll say yes.”

She thought for a moment. “Go to the fountain tonight at midnight. If I am there, it means my answer is yes. If not, you must not ever ask me again. Do I have your word?”  
He took a handful of her heavy brown hair and drew her to him. “Tonight, then, and you will say yes.” He kissed her, hungrily, and she held him tightly, afraid of his passion. She nodded and ran to find Lucrezia, not daring to trust herself, or him.

He laughed as she ran off. “Tonight, cousin, and a thousand nights to come. I’m not letting you go again, but you must find this out for yourself.”

He arrived at the fountain before midnight so he could walk around the courtyard and quiet his mind. He waited, impatiently, looking up at her window, not seeing a light—was that a good sign? Was she coming down, or had she only been playing with him.

To tell the truth, he did not know if he was reaching beyond himself. He could hear all the arguments his father would make against it. She had, after all, come here to find a husband. He was young, his career was just starting, it would be more judicious to wait to take a mistress. It would not look good for the family, and they must present a respectable front.

Where are you, woman, he thought. If she did not come down soon, he was going to go up to her room, and break down her damn door, making his apologies to his mother later. Wanting her, was it so unreasonable? He’d known her for half her life, this wasn’t careless or impulsive, he loved this woman, he didn’t just want her, he loved her.

He was about to head up the stairs when he saw her, wrapped in her black shawl, walking slowly towards him. He went to her and swept her up in his arms, and began to murmur endearments to her in Spanish and Italian.

He carried her into her room, and locked the door behind them. “Your feet are like ice,” he said when he laid her on the bed, “Let me make them warm,” and took one small foot, then the other, into his hands.

He divested himself of his clothes as she pulled off her shift. “Will it be worth it, Cesare, they will be angry at us. They may try to stop us. I don’t know what they’ll do.”

“Let them try. I want more for myself than to wear the Cardinal’s skirts. Are you willing to help me fight for what I want?” He lay against her on the bed, her skin soft and smooth against his, the smell of her amber perfume in his nostrils driving him to distraction.

“We may only have tonight,” she replied, “Don’t waste time by too much talking—I may change my mind.”


	3. The Unholy Trinity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cesare and Constanzia realize they face a challenge--their relationship is considered incestuous by the church and they will have to go great lengths to keep it secret. Lucrezia sees Cesare coming out of Constanzia's room and he swears her to secrecy. She is happy for them both, but Cesare hopes she is able to keep their secret. Meanwhile Cesare must deal with the propositions that Lucrezia and maybe even Constanzia will be married. The girls go to the market the next day, and Constanzia notices that someone is following them. When she confronts Cesare she discovers that the unkempt man with the evil eye has been assigned as her bodyguard--and she is not pleased.

When she woke, she reached for but found his side of the bed empty. Her eyes, used to the darkness, looked around the room and watched him as he finished dressing.  
“Cesare?” she asked softly, and he came over and sat on the bed.

“Go back to sleep, little deer, I have to leave before someone sees.” He pulled her head to his shoulder, then kissed her.

“Cesare, I had something come to me in the night. We can’t do this, the punishment will be too awful if we’re caught. We’re committing incest, Uncle would never forgive us, let alone give us a dispensation.”

“He’s given dispensations for incest marriages, but you’re right, we must be careful. And we cannot afford a child for now, but trust me, I will find a way. I want you to have children, some day.”

“Cesare, what if he finds someone for me to marry? He’s looking for someone for Lucrezia, what if he offers me to a cast off as a consolation prize? I don’t want to be sent away from here, or marry.”

“You think too much, you may have more time than it seems. He will concentrate on Lucrezia and obtaining a dowry for her. If he can marry off one of my brothers…”  
“Which I am sure Juan will not deign to do, unless she is no less than royalty,” he could barely see her smile in the dark.

“You still don’t like him. Sometimes, I don’t like him much myself. If Father can marry off either of my brothers, that will bring badly needed funds to the Treasury. And he’ll need to come up with money for a dowry for you, your father evidently can’t afford very much.”

“So if he tries to marry me, remind him of that. And he can’t send Lucrezia away, I cannot do without either of you. I love her as much as you do, Cesare, and if she’s sent away I will miss her too much.”

“As will I.” How could he explain the strange bond that existed between the three of them? Lucrezia was the love of his life, but he remembered how he had felt when his new cousin was placed in his arms. She had seemed, as had Lucrezia did later, to be perfection itself, the Holy Infant come to earth in the form of the little mewing bundle he held. Then Lucrezia had come and a triumvirate had been formed.

He walked quietly down the hall, hoping he would not be met by a servant or family member. He had almost reached his room when he heard a familiar voice call to him.

“Cesare!” Lucrezia stood there, looking at him, “What are you doing…”

“Shhh,” he swept her up and carried her to her room, “What are you doing up?”

“I just woke and came to find you. What are you doing? Why were you coming out of Constanzia’s room at this hour?”

He put his hand on her mouth, “Be quiet, sister, you must let no one know what you saw.”

“Are you and Constanzia lovers?” her face was eager and full of curiosity.

“If I tell you, you promise to tell no one. Not our Father, our Mother, or our brothers. No one must know, we would be severely punished if anyone found out.”

“So you are! I promise, but I do not understand why I cannot tell…”

“No, you must not tell anyone, do you promise me? This is very important, Lucrezia, a lot rides on your silence.”

She looked puzzled, but said, “I will not tell anyone. I do not want you to get in trouble on my account. And I’m glad, I’m happy for you both. Do you love her?”

“Almost as much as I love you. This is our secret now, yes?”

She hugged him, “Of course, always.” He kissed her and went to his room, hoping that all would be well. Lucrezia had no guile, she was innocence personified. She had yet to learn about keeping secrets, and lies. He wanted to tell her, now he had shared this with her maybe all would be well. But she must remember to hold her tongue.

At breakfast Lucrezia watched them steal glances at each other. When Cesare caught Constanzia’s eyes and smiled, she blushed a pretty and pink and looked down.

“So that’s what it’s like,” thought Lucrezia, “To be in love. Stolen looks and late nights in rooms where you don’t belong—you didn’t think I knew about that, did you Cesare? And how sweet and pretty my cousin looks this morning. Some day that is how I want to look, blushes, secret smiles and all.”

 

After breakfast Cesare was off to the Vatican, and Lucrezia and Constanzia were left with time on their hands. Constanzia begged permission to go to the market, she could hardly stand to remain captive in the room. Permission was granted, Lucrezia went with her, accompanied by two servants.

Constanzia did not remain at one booth long, but kept glancing over her shoulder as they went from merchant to merchant. Even the lacy white shawl she held in her hands could not hold her interest. Sighing she handed it back to the proprietor, and took Lucrezia by the hand and hurried out of the market.

“Lucrezia, we are being followed. See that man, the ragged looking one with the red hair and evil looking eye? He’s been following us since we came here. I was not sure at first, but every move we make, he follows us. 

“I see no such man—are you sure? Maybe you didn’t get enough sleep last night and it has caused you to imagine things…”

Constanzia took her arm, and ducked with her into a corner. “Do you know what you are saying? Please don’t say such things. Why would you say that?”

“Why? It was innocent, but I know dearest cousin, and I want you to know I am happy for you both. He loves you, you know.” Lucrezia kissed her, and saw tears in her eyes, “Please, don’t cry cousin, I didn’t want to make you cry. Let’s go back and buy that shawl you covet. You need fresh air, that’s all.” She paused for a moment, “But you might ask my brother if he has given you a watch dog. It’s only fair that you know.”

 

Midnight, the witching hour. She sat and brushed her long hair, singing a song in Turkish her mother had taught her, about a maiden who sat by a well, waiting for her lover and conjured a djinni instead.

Leave your door unlocked, he’d instructed, so we disturb no one by knocking. She looked at the little clock on her dresser, wondering if he would come.

And the djinn she conjured suddenly stood behind her, and took the brush from her hands. “Let me,” he said, and begin to brush her hair in the same manner he might groom his horse. 

She closed her eyes, the strokes of the brush feeling like a caress. Suddenly she remembered what she would ask him and turned around to face him. “Are you having me followed, Cesare?”

“Why do you say that?” His fingers started to fiddle with the ribbons of her night dress, freeing first one shoulder, then the other.

“I saw him, a ragged looking man with a dangerous look in his eyes. If I met him in an alleyway I would run as fast as I can. He scares me.”

“Don’t be alarmed by him, he is loyal to me, very loyal, I place absolute trust in him. He would die for me or any member of my family if I asked him to. His name is Micheletto.”  
“You can trust me, or have you forgotten? How can you trust one so evil looking?”

“It is not how he looks, little love, it is his allegiance that counts. I am looking out for you, that is all.” He slipped her night dress off her shoulders, “Now, I do not wish to discuss this any further, I have a better way to spend the time, and I must be gone before dawn.”

 

The next day Cesare found himself invested as Cardinal, though he neither willed nor wanted it. I will escape this, he thought, even if I have to take Lucrezia and Constanzia and disappear. Maybe we can go to Istanbul, I can pass as a Circassian and Constanzia will teach me Turkish. As if it were possible, he told himself sadly.

The Pope had assigned Cardinal Sforza as Constanzia’s confessor. As she went into the confessional and sat down, she hoped that she would not reveal herself. She knew that Sforza had a lover, and sometimes liked to frequent the brothels. And she could come up with enough to confess—she had been disobedient to her father’s will, she had lied, she had taken a lover while she was in Spain. Not being particularly pious, though devout enough, she had omitted certain things during her last confession in Spain. She liked Sforza well enough, but had learned discretion could be preferable to honesty.

There was a party going on to celebrate the new cardinals, but Cesare was absent. She found him, and he took her hands and kissed them. “I may not see you tonight, my love, but I may not be the best company.”

“I would regret it if I could not lift your spirits,” she said. She was going to lay her cheek on his hands, but she looked up and saw the strange man looking at her. She held his eyes, not lowering them in a maidenly fashion. They stared at each other, then he went back to helping Cesare dress.

She kissed Cesare, then said, “I must go, they will miss me. I must learn to be friendly to Cardinal Sforza. And Juan is making an effort to be pleasant, for once, so I must take advantage of it. Come to me tonight if you can.” She slipped from the room, giving Micheletto one last dirty look.

Cesare laughed. “I must teach you better manners, you do not know how to treat a lady. All Borgia women can be harridans, it’s the Spanish temper.”

“She did not expect to see me, my lord, and so she was frightened. Until she becomes more accustomed to me, I will exercise more caution. I think the ways of Rome are new to her, and it might be a hard adjustment. Do not worry, I will watch over her like an angel.”

Cesare clapped a hand on his shoulder, and that was all the response he needed.


	4. To Marry a Daughter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cesare informs Constanzia that Lucrezia is to be married to Giovanni Sforza, though he is much older. Constanzia is worried that he is older and since they do not know much about him they do not know if he will treat her well. Cesare and Constanzia are aware that the Pope can marry her off if he chooses--she wants to have a child but wants the child to be Cesare's. She goes to her confessor, Cardinal Sforza, to find out what he knows about his cousin Giovanni and he assures her that, though Giovanni and their cousin Caterina may turn treacherous, he is loyal to the Pope. She also suspects that Sforza is more fond of her than he should be

She woke while it was still dark to find Cesare lying next to her. She traced the lines of his face, noticing that it did not wear the contented expression it usually had when he slept in her bed. There was a sadness, a resignation on his young face, and seeing it made her feel sad.

She entwined her fingers with his, and put her hand around his waist. His grip tightened, and without waking he wrapped her arm more tightly around him. The lines on his face seemed to relax, but she missed the smile he usually wore.

He woke her just before dawn, kissed her and rose from the bed. “I’ll see you at breakfast; I have to go to the Vatican this morning. If Father will free me, I will take you riding this afternoon.” He leaned over and kissed her.

“You should have waked me, Cesare, when you came to bed. This is the first time we haven’t made love when we had the chance.”

He laid his hand on her cheek. “You looked so peaceful—the way I wish I felt. Somehow waking you didn’t feel right.”

She put her arms around his neck. “Next time, do it anyway. We have no way of knowing how much time we have, Cesare. What happens if someone finds us out? What if you get tired of me? What if I get pregnant and I have to run away?”

He laughed, “If that happens, we’ll disguise ourselves and slip out of Rome unnoticed. We’ll go to Constantinople and find your mother’s Turkish family. I’ll offer my services to the Sultan, and we can convert to the Orthodox Church and live happily ever after.” There was a sadness in his voice that let her know that was not what he wanted to do. He kissed her again, and said, “Get some sleep,” and slipped out of her room. 

She found him late in the afternoon, feeding the birds in the dovecote. He was still wearing the scarlet robes of his new office, and she wondered why he hadn’t changed. He looked handsome in his robes, but he looked unhappy to her, and distracted, until she realized that it was more than mere unhappiness—there was anger in his eyes, and helplessness.

“What’s wrong, Cesare?” With him she need not build up to the question, she always asked directly and received the same in turn. Sharing a bed had had opened them up to each other and brought a candor to their relationship. If she wanted to know something from him, she asked, and she could read him well enough to know when not to. He could talk to her, and did, though she tended to hold back a little when it came to herself. 

“Lucrezia’s getting married.” He set down the seed basket and wiped off his hands. He looked around to see if anyone was watching, then took hers and began walking towards his mother’s house. 

“No. What is wrong with Uncle, she’s only a child, barely fourteen. Who will it be?” 

“I don’t know for sure, but I think he is leaning towards Giovanni Sforza. I believe his uncle the Cardinal put forth the match.”

“Why him?” She stopped and stared at Cesare. “We know nothing about him personally, how he will treat her. He’s so much older than she is, surely Uncle can see the sense of marrying her to someone closer to her age. I don’t care how advantageous this seems, does he think any of the Sforza’s will honor any promise they make? The Sforza’s are loyal only to themselves.”

He slipped an arm around her shoulders, “If you think you can talk sense into my father, then you are welcome to try. He’s paying a small fortune for her dowry, if you can change his mind, then he can find Lucrezia someone not quite so expensive.”

“I should ride to Pesaro and try to seduce him, then I can tell the Holy Father what kind of man Lucrezia is marrying. We wouldn’t want to wed her to someone who will be cruel to her.”

Cesare grabbed her arm, “You even think about doing that, and I’ll whip you and keep you shut up naked in your room until you’re ready to confess the error of your ways. I’d love to see your Sforza confessor’s face when you told him about what you planned on doing.” He shoved her against a wall, where they would be hidden from all eyes, “No one but me is going to have you, Querida.” He put his lips down on hers and kissed her, and she felt herself melting as she always did when he touched her.

“What about when Uncle finds a husband for me? You don’t want me to wait until I’m too old for anyone to want me, do you? Don’t you want me to be happy?”  
“Don’t I make you happy?” he murmured, “Don’t I make you feel loved?”

“Yes, of course, but I want a child, Cesare, a child to replace the one God saw fit to take from me. And I want to be the mistress of my own house, I want to have a husband who loves me.”

“Be careful, you might find yourself in Lucrezia’s position. Marrying the niece of the Pope is not quite the same as marrying the daughter, but you’re an eligible pawn in the marriage market. And you’re not a bastard, your mother is Venetian…”

“And Turkish, don’t forget that. But your father is not going to want to bother with me for a while, I hope. After Lucrezia, there’s Juan and Gioffre to find brides for. That buys us a little time, doesn’t it?”

“If I was not Cardinal, and we were third cousins, I think Father might consent to our marrying, but that is not our fate. Let me come to our room tonight, sweetness; can I come, is the time of the month safe?” He wanted to pull up her skirts, but he would not dishonor her, instead he planted kisses over her face and neck.

“Yes, one more night, and then we must wait again. God must not frown on us, otherwise I would have had one scare.” She yielded to him, wondering why it was so easy; then pushed him gently away, one more moment of his hands on her and she’d be yielding to him like a whore in an alleyway. “I think I am going to ask my Sforza confessor what he knows about Giovanni Sforza. Maybe he can tell me what he’s like. Cesare,” she said conspiratorially, “I think my confessor has a fondness for me. He holds my hand whenever he gets the chance, and he’s assigned me far lighter penances than Uncle would assign me. Maybe I can take that soft spot and use it.”

“Be careful, I’ve seen the way he looks at you. Ascanio Sforza would have you in his bed in a heartbeat. All, or at least most, of the cardinals are corrupt. They’ve just not been so open as Father. Now, I must go, but I will see you at dinner. Say nothing to Lucrezia, Father has told me I am to tell her, to soften the blow, I suppose. Now, one last kiss sweet, and I will see you later,” and the kiss he gave her was soft and sweet, not at all like the ones he would give her in her bed chamber.

Was it too late for her to find Cardinal Sforza? She went and looked at the sun dial in the garden. Barely o’clock, just enough time to find her confessor and confront him. She hurried to the Vatican, wanting to run to make sure she could catch him before he left. And, somehow, fortune was with her, for he was making his way down the steps of the Vatican, safely alone.

She ran up to meet him, “Cardinal,” she called and he smiled when he saw her. He always smiled when he saw her. She could see him smiling through the grill of the confessional when she did her confession, he would smile when he saw her in the Vatican, and if chance allowed, he would smile and take her arm and walk her to wherever she was going. Cardinal Sforza was too friendly for her comfort, but she did not dare discourage him. She was a Borgia and knew the value of accumulating allies whenever you could. He could be as bold as he liked, as far as she was concerned, so long as he did not exceed his boundaries.

And God help him if Cesare ever saw him take her hand and pate it, or lay a hand briefly on her shoulder.

She put on her friendliest false smile. “Cardinal, how fortuitous, I wished to speak to you. Do you have a moment for me?”

He touched her face, briefly. Ascanio Sforza was a handsome man, but not too handsome, with a pleasing manner that would put her at ease, were it not for the fact she knew enough to be wary of him. She measured every word she said, making sure he only heard what she wanted him to, and nothing more.

“Of course, my dear, I would be happy to speak to you. The chapel is empty, let us go in there.” He guided her in, his arm straying to her back, but not for long. This made her wonder, for he had just recently started doing this. “Is he hiding something?” she wondered, “He’s far too friendly.”

They genuflected, then he led her to one of the pews. “Now, my dear, what did you wish to discuss?” He gave her that smile, the one she called “the Sforza smile” and it made her uncomfortable.

“I hear that Lucrezia is to marry your cousin, Giovanni Sforza. I was wondering what you could tell me about him. She’s so young, and I’m concerned for her. Some men might be putty in the hands of someone so young and lovely, but not all. I’m worried about how he might treat her. I know you put forth the match, and politically advantageous it might be, but what does that matter if he mistreats her? I would never forgive him if he hurt her.” And I’d be even less likely to forgive you.

“The Sforzas are an old and noble family. With this match, your uncle the Holy Father would have the armies of the Romagna at his disposal. Daughters are often married for political gain, and love must come later, if it comes. Did your family not arrange your marriage?”

“Yes,” she answered impatiently, “Our parents made the match and we fell in love. We were close in age and liked the same things. My parents wanted to make sure I married someone who made me happy. My husband and I fell in love, and it broke my heart when I lost both him and my child.” She paused and took a breath, “Why do you think I am so concerned for Lucrezia? Maybe she must do her duty as a daughter, but she also deserves to be happy. And you know, as well as I, that your cousins cannot be counted upon to hold true to any alliance. The Tiger Lady will be her interests above all, you know that as well as I.”

He looked at her, was there pity in his eyes? “Well, you must hope and pray that your cousin will be happy. I don’t know how he will treat her, Constanzia, but know this, I am loyal to the Holy Father. If my cousin Caterina betrays him, she betrays me, too. Lucrezia must take her fate into her own hands. You Borgia women are fierce, and if she wants help, she must find a way to get it for herself. Do not worry, she has all of you, and that is saying a great deal.” He kissed her forehead and left the chapel.

She sat for a while longer, thinking. All right, he told me nothing, and I know when my hands are tied. I’ll make her promise that if she ever has any trouble, she will send word to us. I can’t do anymore than that. I just wish Uncle Rodrigo would have chosen a better match for her, I do not think this is going to work out well, and I wish I could make him understand.


	5. Parting is Sweet Sorrow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first separation, but Cesare takes the liberty to make changes behind her back. Constanzia now has an armed guard for when she rides, and a secret watcher when she goes about the city. She, in turn, has arranged to have to watchers of her own to keep an eye on Lucrezia and report back to her if anything seems wrong. Lucrezia's is not the only wedding in the works, Vanozza and Rodrigo inform her that she is not being left out of wedding plans--they will be finding a husband for her, too.

I am taking some dramatic license here. Being an amateur historian, I hate to not get facts, especially dates and events, straight, but for the sake of storytelling I am going to do just that. I’m fascinated by Macchiavelli, not for his reputation, but by his intelligence and his political astuteness. What can I say, the man had a real sense of the people he dealt with and was not afraid to be critical of accepted institutions. I would love to have him as a professor in a political science class.

Cesare was especially tender and passionate that night—it was going to be their first separation since her coming to Rome. It was uncanny how his fondness for the little girl he had remembered had translated into a passion for the woman he now held in his arms. At eight years old she had cried when they were parted, but when he told her now that he must leave and would be gone for a while, she had merely closed her eyes and nodded her head. 

“Tell me again, where are you going?” She was not happy, but she would not reveal it, she would not complain. She had known, vaguely, that her father had had affairs, but her mother had never confronted him. She had never known the two to quarrel, and if that was the secret of a happy relationship, she would follow her mother’s example.

“I must go to Naples and Florence, then possibly to Forli to check up on Katerina Sforza. That is a tiger my father is holding by the tail, and like you, sweet cousin, I do not trust her.” He kissed her tenderly on her forehead.

“And you will meet with the de Medici ambassador, Macchiavelli? I envy you. I wish you could take me, I would like to meet him. I wish I were a man, then I could meet with Signor Macchiavelli and get to talk to him. Do you think you could ask him to recommend some books for me?”

“I am glad, Querida, that you are not a man.” He tapped her playfully on the tip of her nose, “But I think if you were, you would do Father proud. Yes, I will ask about books for you. I forget sometimes what a scholar Uncle Carlos was, and that you were given the same education as your brothers. The Vatican Library would be more efficient if you were running it, but never mind that. I will come back as soon as I can, but I don’t know how long that will be, so be patient.” This last was said as he was putting his mouth on her belly, and they lost all interest in libraries and Macchiavelli.

 

The next morning he quizzed Micheletto as he inspected his saddle and his baggage. “You did as I asked, yes, a new escort—one who is armed—for her when she’s riding? And someone to watch her as she goes about the city, or for walks beyond the walls.”

“Yes, your eminence,” Micheletto was correct when he thought it best, “He’s been instructed to tell her that it is more dangerous times, but now she may ride further from the walls if she wishes. And the new escort is only for her safety, and he is at her disposal day or night. Do not worry, they are instructed to answer any questions she has and to make an effort to put her at ease. I do not know if I would have recommended this, but if they handle her gently it will be all right.”

“She must understand that it is not safe now. Rome is vulnerable to enemies from within and without. It’s bad enough that Lucrezia is being married to Giovanni Sforza, God only knows if she will be safe there. And if the Sforzas turn against Rome? I only hope I can get to her in time.”

“Fabio will look after Constanzia, and he will do a good job, Eminence. He is loyal to you first, then to me, he will not fail you.”

“The Lombard? Hmmm. Well, he should be loyal to Constanzia second, then you.” Cesare swung up into his saddle, “We need to get on the road now. I’ve said my goodbyes and I want to get some miles in before the sundown.”

They had said their goodbyes before the rest of the household had awakened. Constanzia had gone back to sleep, and when she woke, reached out for him, only to find an empty space. It was then she remembered. He’s gone, she thought, we have not been parted before, and she missed him. She rang for her maid to help her don her riding habit, then went to the stables to fetch her horse and her groom.

Ippolito, her groom, was not there, instead a tall man held the reins of two horses. He smiled and bowed, and said, “My lady.”

“Where is my groom? I wished to ride this morning.” She looked around but could not see him, “Have different arrangements been made? If so, no one told me.”

“My name is Fabio, my lady. His Eminence would feel more comfortable if you were accompanied by an armed guard. There is more danger now, especially from the French, and he felt that this would put his mind at ease. He said to tell you that you may ride further away from the city, if you wish. I am hoping that will meet your approval.” He bowed again, and smiled at her with even white teeth.

You lying Lombard, she thought, what is Cesare up to? I’ll take this up with him when he returns. “Are you good at conversation? I like to talk while I ride, when it suits me. I don’t like surprises, please remember that and we will get along just fine. And is your horse as fast as my Arabian?”

“Probably not, my lady, but he’s not bad.” He flashed her his smile again. Cesare, did you know Micheletto would find me someone so good looking? She smiled back at him. No harm, I’ll enjoy his company. God forbid that I should give Cesare a reason to be jealous.

By the second day, she found that she preferred the big, bluff Lombard’s company to the groom’s. Fabio had spent some time in Spain in his youth, and still had a command of the language. He began speaking Spanish to her, and it was comforting to hear the language of her home, for Vanozza spoke mostly Italian. The Lombard also had a pleasing singing voice and would burst into song on a moment’s notice, often asking her if she would like to join in.

They had stopped to rest and let the horses graze, when an idea came to her. “Fabio,” she asked, “Do you know anyone who is familiar with Pesaro?”

“Yes, I know a few people, why?”

“I would like to find someone to become part of my cousin’s household once she is married. If something happens and things are not going well, I would have them get word to me, in case my cousin is not able to do so for herself. I do not know what kind of man Giovanni Sforza is, so I do not know how great the risk would be. I would pay them well, I have money of my own and do not need to ask Cesare. Can you do this thing for me?”

He took her hand and kissed it. Not very proper, she thought, but you are charming enough that I will let you get away with it. “I would be happy to do this thing for you, signora, and I will only tell those whom you wish to know. I would not want anything to happen to the Signorina Lucrezia. I will find someone to travel to Pesaro with her, she will not even know what you have done. You can depend on me.”

The only payment he received from her was a smile, but she was sure that Cesare paid him a generous remuneration. She wished that she could do more, but this was all that was available. She would go to Pesaro and pay a call upon Sforza, but if Cesare found out, there would be hell to pay. Life would have been simpler, had she remained in Spain, but in Italy she was living a life she never would have imagined. 

The next morning, Fabio stopped unexpectedly while they were riding. A man and a woman stepped out from behind a tree, and bowed to her.

“Here they are, signora, the ones who will accompany your Lucrezia to Pesaro and watch over her for you. If something happens, they will let me know and I will tell you and the signore. You do not need to worry, I, Fabio, will make sure all is well.” He bowed with a flourish.

She hid her smile, “Thank you, I appreciate this. Just make sure that I hear of any news you learn first. His eminence will appreciate what you are doing for his sister.” And hopefully won’t hear that I have done this, she thought.

When she returned she took a long bath. The Holy Father was to join them at the mid day meal, perhaps you would like to put on one of your nicer gowns, suggested Vanozza. She donned one of her favorite dresses, one that Cesare was fond of, a gown of copper colored silk over a green brocade petticoat. Her dresses were plainer, and she did not wear as many jewels as Vanozza and her cousins, but Cesare had told her that her style of dressing suited her.

She was always glad to see her uncle, even though he had become very grand in his manners since he became Pope. She was still his beloved niece and treated her very tenderly, even if she did have to remember to call him “Holy Father”.

The conversation had drifted around to weddings and children, and Juan, sitting next to her, noticed tears in the corners of her eyes. “Don’t worry, cousin, your time for a wedding will come sooner than you think. Your wedding and husband will be less grand than Lucrezia’s, but you are still the Pope’s niece.”

“Don’t worry my dear,” Rodrigo Borgia spoke in his voice that could fill a room, “We have not forgotten you. Your turn will come before you know it.”

Juan handed her a handkerchief. “Thank you, Holy Father, but I was remembering my wedding, and the baby I lost. I miss my husband so much, sometimes it seems as if he died just yesterday. And I was so lucky, he was such a wonderful man and so kind to me. I miss him every day.”

“Well, the cure to that, my dear, is another wonderful husband, and a child. When you marry again, you will be so full of thoughts for your new life that your old one will fade away. You are young, you must not dwell so much on the past.” Vanozza was a practical woman who had learned to adjust to the life she had chosen.

“Listen to Vanozza, my dear, every word she tells you is true.” Rodrigo patted her hand again and gave her a magnanimous smile.

She smiled back, knowing that none of them had a clue. She missed Cesare terribly, but she could hide this behind her grief. In truth, she was in no hurry to re-marry, but when her uncle found her a husband, she could not object but must smile and obey. Not even Cesare could circumvent it, even if he wished to. The Pope’s word was law.


	6. Savonarola

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While visiting Machiavelli in Florence, Cesare learns about Savonarola, the "Preacher of Florence", and what he learns does not please him. It is obvious that the Domenican friar will pose a threat, if he does not already.
> 
> Back in Rome, Constanzia is enjoying a heady sense of freedom with Cesare's absence, but her new bodyguard is obviously too infatuated. He would have her leave Cesare and marry him, but she knows she would not be happy as a simple soldier's wife. Because of his feelings for her, he decides that it is best if another escort if found for her.
> 
> Before Cesare left, he and Constanzia have a conversation regarding her moving into rooms at the Vatican. Vanozza favors this, she feels Constanzia needs more of a life than she has at her house. Cesare would like to have her closer to him, but Constanzia is afraid that at the Vatican they would be too exposed. Also, she is fearful that her uncle will start looking for a husband for her. With Lucrezia's wedding coming soon, she will be next after matches are found for Juan and Gioffre. She is not ready yet, but fears she will have no choice as she will be more than eligible to make a good match.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don’t do a lot of flashbacks, don’t know why I just don’t, but this one seemed to call for it and it helps me move Constanzia from Vanozza’s house to the Vatican.

Cesare stood on the balcony of Machiavelli’s house, drinking a glass of his host's excellent wine, his faithful Micheletto hovering in the background. He’d discarded his cardinal robes for his everyday garb, feeling safer and less conspicuous. In truth, sometimes he felt vulnerable in his role as a prince of the church, only when in Rome under his Holy Father’s protection did he let down his guard. The sooner he could permanently rid himself of the red satin cardinal’s skirts, the better.

He looked down and saw a curious thing happening in the streets. A procession of people followed a short, square man in Dominican robes. He did not know for certain who the man was, but he had heard rumors. He made up his mind to ask his host who the squat, ugly man was, and his opinion of him. Machiavelli had slowly been earning his respect, and he found that he valued his opinions.

Machiavelli emerged with a stack of books bound by leather straps. “Tell your cousin I would like to hear what she thinks of these. When she finishes, I would be glad to loan her more. She is trustworthy with other’s books, is she not? I would think so, otherwise you would not do this for her.”

Cesare laughed. “Be careful, or you will find yourself becoming her library. I fully expect when I return to Florence I will have these, with instructions to exchange them for new ones. I think she is hoping you have volumes that are not allowed in the Vatican library.” 

“Ah, a heretic in the making. Unusual. Tell me about your cousin,” said Machiavelli, a shrewd look on his face, “Is she a scholar, or someone who reads merely for pleasure?”  


“Something of both. Her father is a scholar, and insisted on a good education for all of his children. I think she might be better educated than me. I always admired her father, when he left he gave me a list of books he thought I should read. That is what I like best about my cousin, she is beautiful, but she does not place great significance on it. She says that looks are an accident, and if she relied on them, she would be foolish, because looks will fade while education does not.” Cesare held out his empty glass and a servant refilled it.

“But there is something I would ask you about, Niccolo. I saw a strange sight, an odd looking friar leading a procession. Who is this person that has such a following?”

“Ah, you have seen the preacher of Florence, I believe. A Dominican friar who has gathered a sizable following. The “Piagnoni” they call themselves. His name is Savonarola, and he has made it his mission to cleanse Florence of her sins, whether she wills it or not. He preaches that this is the end times, and that when all sin is cleared from Florence, and wealth disbursed, Florence will become the new Jerusalem, under his guidance and leadership, of course.”

“Hmmm.” Cesare pondered what he had just heard. The Savonarolas of this world could merely be a nuisance, or flare up like a flame and burn out of control. And worse, might draw people away from the true Church. Enigmatic preachers tended to attract followers, and followers meant the word could be spread. 

“Tell me, Niccolo, do you think he is harmless? Will he just go away?”

“Frankly, no, fanatics rarely do,” Machiavelli replied, “I see this one becoming a problem, something that should be nipped in the bud. Right now he says the things that many wish to hear, considering the times. He preaches against wealth, sodomites, and the corruption of the church. He would see us all Puritans and as miserable as he is.”

“Thank you my friend,” Cesare took the stack of books, “I will see you on my next trip to Florence. I will talk to the Holy Father and see what he wishes to do about this friar.”

Constanzia was experiencing a heady sense of freedom, and feeling a little guilty. She had not realized until now just how much Cesare dominated her life. Without Micheletto hovering in the background and Cesare to worry about, she was free to be flirtatious, though harmlessly so, with her handsome new bodyguard.

If she dropped her glove, he would return it with a flourish. She liked the smiles her gave her, the little courtesies, and his companionship when she went on her daily rides. And though speaking Spanish made her feel a little homesick, it was nice to hear it again. Cesare would speak it to her sometimes, but it was usually love talk, and she missed conversing in it as she might with someone back in Spain.

He was handsome, not so handsome as Cesare, but his blue eyes, fair skin, and jet black hair presented a very pleasing picture. And he was a flirt. He flirted with her, he flirted with the maids, no woman seemed exempt from his attentions. Each woman he smiled at was sure that his smile was for her, and her alone.

But it wasn’t. When they were alone on their rides he would sing love songs to her. If they stopped to let their horses graze, he would fill her ears with a torrent of love making. At first it embarrassed her, then it scared her, then as Cesare’s absence grew longer, she came to depend upon him to fill the void. That was dangerous. If Cesare suspected any sign of impropriety, he could had Fabio killed by his trusty Micheletto, and if she was not careful, he could put her in a nunnery, or worse.

Fabio was standing behind her now, his lips dangerously close to her neck, so close that she could feel his warm breath. It took a great effort, but she pushed herself away from him. “No, Fabio,” she said, “You cannot. If Cesare finds out he’ll have Micheletto kill you, and me he might put in a convent, or perhaps beat me within an inch of my life. No, this cannot continue, I have too much to lose.”

“Why?” he said, his anger surprising her, “You will never be more than his mistress, and as you grow older, he’ll replace you with one more young and desirable. Is this what you want to do with your life, wait on him? He may never let you have a child, and his latest mistress just bore him a daughter—think about it. Marry me, and I will love you the rest of my life. There will be no other mistresses, you will be enough for me.”

She turned to him, a look of scorn on her face. “What, and be the wife of a humble soldier? I am from the house of Borgia and the niece of Pope Alexander. My family would never approve of my marrying you, no more than they would approve of my being Cesare’s mistress. I have no desire to be the wife of a humble soldier, trying to live on a soldier’s pay, if you were even able to remain in the pope’s army. You need to find a girl who is used to being poor, and therefore won’t mind it. Cesare will provide me an income if he tires of me. I am family, he will not dishonor me.”

He took her in his arms and kissed her, hard. “Very well, signora, but I think you will find that you can be happy living with less if you make up your mind to. I will find another escort for you, I cannot bear the thought of looking at you day after day and know I cannot have you. But remember that kiss, and how many more could wait for you. Come, it is time to go back. Signora Vanozza will have your breakfast ready, and I am sure you must be hungry.”

She wanted to beg him to change his mind, but she knew it would do no good. It was just as well that he had made his decision, she was not so sure that she would have been strong enough to release him. Was she in love with him, half in love with him? She did not know, but she could not afford the complication he presented. Micheletto would murder him at the drop of a hat, and she was not so sure that she would not murder Micheletto himself if he harmed a hair on Fabio’s head. And not for anything would she risk Cesare’s wrath. She had already made that mistake once.

She changed out of her riding clothes and into a morning gown. She pasted an insincere smile on her face, and sat at the table. She would not allow herself to reveal the pain she was feeling, that someone she liked very much had hurt her, even if he had good cause.

Cesare would be home soon. He would officiate at Lucrezia’s wedding—only she knew how much it hurt him to have to do it. She wondered why Uncle Rodrigo had been so cruel, but the Pope tended to wear blinkers and see only the immediate.

Cesare would be turning to her for comfort, as he often did when troubled. After they made love he would rest his head on her breast, so like a little boy. Since returning to Rome she too had become dependent on him. Her bed felt empty when he was not in it, and she’d wonder if he was in another woman’s, or by himself—she never could be sure.

Before he left he’d spoken of moving her into rooms at the Vatican. Vanozza had surprised her by agreeing. “It must be dull for you, my dear, living with me. The Vatican is a lively place. You would have the opportunity to meet people from all over Europe. There are all sorts of receptions that go on, I feel sorry for you sitting home with me. I am very dull, too dull for a lively young girl like yourself.”

Later that night she asked him why he was insisting. “We’d be at greater risk of being discovered. It is so much more private at your mother’s house, and safer. Why run the risk?”

He pushed himself up on one elbow. “I would have you closer to me, for one. And if father needs me, I can answer him more quickly. And you are becoming as reclusive as a cloistered nun. As mother said, life at the Vatican is exciting, and you have behaved like a widow long enough. We’d see more of each other, wouldn’t you like that?”

“We’d see more of each other only if Uncle Rodrigo doesn’t decide to send you on one errand after another. And if uncle has suitors he wishes me to meet, I will have more trouble hiding from them.”

“He hasn’t begun to find suitors for you yet. There’s Lucrezia’s wedding, and he will try to find matches for Juan and Gioffre. He’ll show you off at the wedding, let them have a look at you. You’re worth more in the marriage market than you realize. And you’re not a Borgia bastard, your mother and father were married in the church at Rome.”

“But there are lots of bastard sons who will inherit from their fathers, Cesare.”

“Yes, and he’ll dangle your connections to Venice and Constantinople in front of them. You may not have Lucrezia’s or LaBella’s golden hair and blue eyes, but you are beautiful, and accomplished. Father will hold out for a good match for you.”

“You sound like you approve of this!” she cried.

“No, I do not, I most definitely do not, but this gives us time, my love. We have known that we were facing this ever since you came to Rome. Let us enjoy the time we have left, beloved. And I swear, you will go to your marriage bed with my baby in your belly. Your first child will belong to Cesare Borgia, and no one will know but the two of us.”

“You are wicked, Cesare Borgia,” she breathed, “But I think I love you more for it.”

“You have no idea, my love,” he chuckled, “Let me prove it to you once more.”


	7. Of Books and Lovers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cesare had just concluded a visit to Machiavelli in Florence. It is there that he is starting to see that Savonarola is not merely a nuisance, but may cause trouble in the future. As Machiavelli tells him, fanatics rarely go away.
> 
> He comes back to Rome to tell his father what he has learned, but the Pope is occupied with seeing Constanzia model the dress that she will wear to Lucrezia's wedding. But it is a different vision of her that he sees, her hair is done up and pearls twisted in it, and she wears a dress of red and gold, and seems somehow more sophisticated than he imagined her to be.
> 
> He learns that there will be possible suitors at the wedding, eager to take a look at the Pope's niece. And worst of all, his mother accuses him of having an affair with her, which he denies, but denial will only get him so far.

Cesare and Micheletto rode as fast as they dared back to Rome, making sure they spared their horses as there would be no opportunity to change them. When they arrived, Cesare threw his reins to Micheletto, and ran into the Vatican, hoping to have him announced and request a conference with the Holy Father.

No such luck. Rodrigo was in La Bella’s chamber, inspecting the dress that Constanzia would wear to Lucrezia’s wedding.

“Beautiful, beautiful,” he said as she dipped and spun around for his inspection, “You look absolutely ravishing my dear, does she not, Julia?’

“Yes, Holy Father,” La Bella responded, in her low, musical voice, “How glad I am that you let me dress your hair, Constanzia, you look lovely, you should ask my hairdresser to arrange your hair for you until you acquire one of your own. It is so nice to see you in a formal gown; the red and gold of your dress flatter you.”

Cesare could only stare. Constanzia’s hair had been braided and coiled around her head, and the braids were interwoven with strands of pearls. Her red silk dress was heavily embroidered with gold and had a gold underskirt. As a final touch, her lips had been rouged and her eyes rimmed with kohl. This was not the girl he knew that he took to his bed every night. This was a woman, so beautiful, so unexpected that it took his breath away.

“Well, say something, Cesare,” the pope slapped him on the back, “Will you not tell your cousin how beautiful she looks?”

“My cousin is exquisitely beautiful, no matter how she looks. Even in her every day gowns, she doesn’t need all this.” He was still staring, his errand to the pope temporarily forgotten. He wanted to unpin her hair, wipe the makeup from her face and take her to his bed. She was being put on display, and he hated it. Had his father found some suitors, castoffs from Lucrezia, or were these strictly for her?

“Every woman likes to look different once in a while, Cesare, “ La Bella said gently, no reproof in her voice, “And I agree, she looks as lovely in a plain gown as she would in the most costly dress, just let her enjoy this, please.”

He bowed to La Bella, “Father, I am sorry, but I have forgotten an important matter which I must discuss with you, one you will want to hear as soon as possible.” He took his father’s arm and led him to his office.

Julia had watched with a shrewd look in her eyes. I was not sure, she thought, and I had thought to dismiss it, but now I am positive they are having an affair, one which must have started when she arrived. The look of love in his eyes when he looked at her! I am not sure if I should tell anyone, they are going to find a suitor for her soon, so this may end of its own accord. I do not think she will be so unwise as to refuse the match Rodrigo makes for her. I remember what it’s like to be young and in love. No, I will leave it alone for now, but I will watch them carefully. It’s going to be hard for both when she marries, but marry she must.

 

“Now, my son, what is so important that you could not wait to tell us?” The pope sat in his chair while Cesare paced the room.

“It’s the preacher of Florence, Savonarola; he has progressed from being a minor nuisance to a serious problem. His followers grow by the day, and they parade about the city, urging people to repent of their sins. He preaches against sin, against sodomy, and the corruption of the church, meaning you. He tells his followers that once Florence is cleansed of its sins, a new order will come to being, and Florence will be the New Jerusalem. Revelations, evidently, is a favorite source for his sermons.”

“Are you sure he’s just not another itinerant preacher who will soon go away and be forgotten?”

“No Holy Father, Machiavelli thinks this is a situation that will only grow worse. We have not seen the last of Girolamo Savonarola, and things will get worse before they finally come to a head. If I were you, I would imprison him now, and get him out of the way.”

“He could be more of a threat that way. No, my son, we must play the waiting game, and let him fall into our hands. In the meantime, I have had some suitors inquiring about Constanzia’s hand. I have invited a couple of them to the wedding, let them get a look at her, and see what they think. The dowry her father offers is far too inadequate, so we must make up the rest, but it will be worth it if we can make a good connection for ourselves.”

“Father, surely she does not need to get married just yet! She’s been a widow for barely a year; does she not deserve more time to mourn?” Cesare was desperate, if his father was discussing suitors, then he mean to marry Constanzia as soon as the right one came along. “And Lucrezia is getting married now.”

The Pope leaned back, wondering why his cousin’s marriage mattered so much to him. “And her wedding will be a good opportunity for them to see her cousin, and will provide an opportunity for her to have a little time to get to know them.” He picked up a piece of paper, and read a name, “Calvino Pallavicini de Genoa. He’s wealthy, commands a fleet of ships, and since her mother came from a Venetian merchant house, he might find her Venetian and Turkish connections desirable.”

“That might provide good connections for us. Come, Cesare, don’t be selfish. She has told me more than once that she would like to start a family, and if Pallavicini will have her, then she will get what she wants.” Cesare said nothing, but turned and left the room. The pope shook his head. Yes, it was definitely time Constanzia was married—Cesare was for too possessive of both his sister and his cousin. He intended to get Constanzia as far away from his son as he could.

At dinner that night, he was quiet and uncommunicative. There were really no way he could provide answers to the questions of his mother, sister, cousin, and young Gioffre. The problem of Savonarola was something he did not wish to discuss. The best he could offer in the way of conversation was to talk of his visit to Machiavelli, which interested only Constanzia.

He kept looking at the stranger that was his cousin. Though he saw nothing unattractive about the way Italian women dressed their hair, he preferred his cousin’s hair loose, flowing around her like a dark, silken cloak. During the day she kept it in a long thick braid, but at night he loved to pull the ribbons out and let her hair spill out over her back. And never, ever, had he seen her wear any cosmetics, and it was hard not to stare at her, noting that the kohl made her eyes seem large and luminous, and the rouge on her lips was only slightly darker than their normal color.

Everyone left the table, albeit slowly, until only he and his mother were left. They sat in companionable silence until Vanozza broke it, saying, “What is going on between you and Constanzia, my son?” Her blue eyes stared at him, awaiting an answer.

“Nothing,” came out at first, but she shook her head. “Cesare, I am your mother, I have known you all your life, and I know when you are lying to me.”

“Nothing, mother, truly. There is nothing between us but the love of cousins.”

“All right, Cesare, but this nothing must stop. You can be accused of consanguinity, you know. We are trying to arrange a good marriage that will benefit both our houses. And, if possible, a happy marriage for her, so there must be no scandal.”

“You are not being so considerate of Lucrezia. Constanzia tells me that there is something that feels terribly wrong about Lucrezia’s coming marriage, and I believe her. Why hasn’t father tried to find out what kind of man Giovanni Sforza is before he marries her to him? Did you agree to this?”

“Cesare, I had no say in it, believe me if I had, were there one thing, however insignificant in Giovanni Sforza’s character, I would put a stop to it. You have resources, my son, have you not tried to find out anything about him?”

“Father has kept me busy, there has been no time. If he mistreats her, I will kill him.”

“I will not talk you out of that, but in the meantime, you and your cousin must end your affair.” The look of hurt in his eyes pained her, but now, at least, she knew it was true. “I won’t tell your father, but when she moves into the Vatican, you may not find it so easy to hide what you are doing.”

He kissed her. “Since I am doing nothing, there is no need to hide. I don’t want Constanzia to marry, and I don’t want my sister to marry, either. But it seems I can do nothing about either.” He left the room, not looking back.

Oh, Cesare, she thought, how far has this gone? Constanzia must marry; it will be to the benefit of both of you. Her heart ached for her son, he was not being asked to give up a mere mistress, he was being asked to give up someone he loved so dearly it hurt.

When he came into Constanzia’s room that night, she had unbound her hair and was washing the makeup off her face. “Here, let me,” he said, and took the cloth and wiped her face clean. “There, he said, “Now you look like you again.” 

She smiled mischievously, “I did not know I did not look like me, cousin.”

“You didn’t,” he responded, “And do not wear it when you are with me, or have your hair done up like a Roman lady.”

“How then shall I wear it?” she asked innocently.

“Braided, with ribbons, hanging down your back. “Simple suits you; you look far more beautiful than women in their fancy gowns. You have simply to be yourself, and you are easily the most beautiful woman in the room.” Suddenly he remembered Machiavelli’s books, “Here, he said, “Niccolo sent these.”

“Oh,” she breathed as she undid the fastenings, “You must thank him for me when next you see him. I did not know if he would do this or not, it was very kind of him.” She set the books carefully on a shelf, then came into his open arms, pressing herself against him.

He pulled her night shift off, loving the feel of her silky thighs, her flat belly. He pushed her away for a second lest he forget the last thing he wanted to tell her. “They are moving you into the Vatican, my love. There is a room, a little away from the others, that I may persuade father to let you have.” The look of disappointment on her face made him smile, “Don’t look like that, you’re not so far away from my apartments, no one will really notice when I come to you at night. You knew this was coming, do not be upset, it will be better, you will see.”

“Like my being made to marry? It seems that there will be suitors at Lucrezia’s wedding who are eager to have a look at me. You said that we would be able to wait, that Uncle would marry Gioffre and Juan first.” The look on her face told him plainly that she thought he had betrayed her.

“Find a husband then, my sweet, and visit as often as he will let you. Perhaps we can plant baby Borgia’s and when we send you back to your husband, he will be none the wiser. But you are not marrying yet, and time is flying by and I must go back to my rooms before anyone knows that I am here.”

She sighed and put her arms around him. As he kissed her he let his finger stray up between her legs, feeling the satiny wet that let him know that her desire had been aroused. He laid her on the bed and removed his clothing. Cara mia, he whispered to her, and then both were lost in their desires.


	8. Lucrezia's Wedding

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lucrezia is to be married to Giovanni Sforza, and neither Cesare nor Constanzia are please. Lucezia's wedding preparations are bring back sad memories of Constanzia's own, and she can no longer bear to take part in them. Vanozza shows her who it is that the Pope picked out to marry her, and if she were inclined to wed, she would not be unhappy with the choice. Cesare and Constranzia confront his feeling for both her and Lucrezia, and it seems that nothing good will come out of it

Constanzia had stopped going to La Bella’s apartments and participating in Lucrezia’s wedding preparations. Her gown was finished, Julia would choose how to dress her hair, so there was no need of her. She did not tell anyone, but she was being reminded of the preparations for her own wedding so long ago now it seemed, and at times she was barely able to hold back the tears.

The dismay she had felt when she found out she would be married was still fresh in her mind. She liked her life at home, liked being the daughter of the household, and now she would no longer live her happy comfortable life. She did not even know who they had in mind for her. What would he be like? Would she and her husband live with her parents? His parents? Would they have their own house? Would she be close to home, or would she be sent far away, only able to visit her family on special occasions.

Let him be kind, let him be handsome, let me be happy, she’d pray. She almost caught herself trying to bargain with God and make promises she knew she could not keep, when suddenly her prayers seemed to be answered. 

Gabriel Garcia was a handsome young soldier from a good family in Toledo. At first she had been disappointed to learn where he lived, but Gabriel was kind, and funny, and loved to ride as much as she did. Soon she found that she liked his parents as much as hers, and even better, Gabriel made her feel weak in the knees when he kissed her. The parents had made the match and the couple had fallen deeply in love.

It hadn’t hurt that he had reminded her of Cesare, she thought as she embroidered on a ribbon for Cesare to use for her favor in his next joust. Cesare had driven Gabriel from her mind, but now with Lucrezia’s wedding planning, memories of her own wedding had come flooding back.

She sighed noisily, brushing away tiny tears that had formed at the corners of her eyes. It was too late to ask if she could return to Spain, and permission would not have been forthcoming anyway. She would hold her head up and march in Lucrezia’s processional, and watch Cesare perform the ceremony. Of the two of them, she did not know who was being treated more unfairly.

“What are you embroidering, Cara?” Vanozza asked, and held out her hand. Constanzia handed her the ribbon.

“For Cesare, for a favor in his next joust. I know Uncle does not approve of him participating, but he will. He asked me for a favor, so I am embroidering one of my ribbons for him.”

“Why are you not with Lucrezia and La Bella?”

Finally the tears could not be held back. “I have been thinking about my own wedding. I miss my husband and the child we might have had. I know this is so silly…”

“It is not silly, my child,’ Vanozza held out her loving arms and enfolded Constanzia in her embrace, “It is only natural that you should have these feelings.” She took her own handkerchief and blotted Constanzia’s eyes. “Come, let us go and watch the guests arriving. You have been cooped up for days. 

“All right.” It did seem like a good idea. Vanozza, as usual, knew just what she needed. It was funny how much of a mother she had become to her. Her parents had never approved of her, but Vanozza had been an asset to the Pope, and had been a good mother to their children. If she had been a courtesan once, that was long ago. As far she was concerned, she could not ask for a better or more loving aunt.

They made their way downstairs to the balcony that overlooked the entrance the guests would pass under to enter the Vatican. There was a crowd of people making their way in, being greeted by Cardinal Sforza. The Pope would make his entrance later, and greet the chosen few he felt worthy.

She watched Giovanni Sforza pass under the arch, and inwardly shivered. He had a cruel face and she did not believe he would make his young bride happy. Even worse, he seemed to wear a perpetual sneer. You have married my cousin to the wrong man, Holy Father, she thought.

Some more passed, then a small retinue came into view. One of the men, a young man dressed in a black velvet doublet looked up and smiled at her. She returned his smile, liking his handsome face. “Who is that, Aunt Vanozza?” she asked.

Vanozza smiled, “Calvino Pallavicini de Genoa”, she replied, “He’s very rich, owns a fleet of ships, and is in high favor with his uncle the Doge. I believe he’s here for more than the wedding, he’s interested in meeting you.”

“Was he one of the ones not good enough for Lucrezia?” She was still watching him. He had dark curly hair and was clean shaven, “He’s very handsome.”

Vanozza slapped her face playfully, “Probably, but then Rodrigo told him about you. I may have heard that he favors dark haired women over blonds. Just a rumor, you understand.” She gave Constanzia a conspiratorial grin, “Don’t worry, you’ll meet him tomorrow.” 

They remained until the late comers came straggling in, then went to Vanozza’s rooms to oversee the evening meal. Lucrezia would not be joining them, but Cesare, Juan, and Gioffre would be there. She missed the old days before her uncle became pope, when her family and his would gather round Vanozza’s table. Now she wondered if those days had been a dream, and her uncle had always been the pontiff and the world had changed so much.

“Well, cousin,” Juan said, tactless as usual, “Are you ready to find yourself a suitor at the wedding tomorrow.”

“Eager for me to be gone, Juan?” she hissed at him, “Get rid of Gioffre and Cesare and you will have the attentions of the Holy Father and Aunt Vanozza all to yourself.”

Juan was about to reply, but Cesare interrupted him, “You two, you have not changed since you were children. Since I can no longer threaten to tell your mothers, you will just have to behave as adults, for a change.” He smiled and winked at Constanzia. Some things never change, his look said.

She was almost asleep when Cesare entered her room. He slid into bed next to her, and asked, “Did you finish my favor?”

“Almost. Aunt Vanozza decided I needed to get out of the apartments and we went and looked at the people arriving for the wedding. Cesare, has the Pope really invited some possible suitors? Why did he not tell me?”

Cesare laughed, “He thinks he is being tactful in his own way. Since he’s marrying off Lucrezia, I suppose that he thought it a good idea to marry you, too.”

“And what do you think about this? Could you not have tried to talk him out of it? I don’t want to marry just yet.”

“I did, but you know Father, he won’t be talked out of anything if he’s made up his mind.” He pulled her more closely to him, “I am just going to have to make sure that there is a Borgia baby in your belly when you leave here. Your first child is going to be mine, Querida.”

“Isn’t that rather deceitful of us? Do you really want to do that to my future husband?”

“Yes, I do, and I intend to. You’ll always belong to me, you and Lucrezia. And if something happens and you’re widowed again, you’ll return here, along with our child and your other children, and I’ll take care of you, I promise.”

 

Constanzia stood in front of Vanozza’s mirror, staring at the stranger. “You look lovely,” Vanozza told her, “Go now, and let people see just how lovely you are. Don’t worry about me, I’ll be fine.” She put her arms around her, and squeezed her tightly.

“It’s not fair, you’re her mother,” Constanzia whispered, and would have said more, but Cesare stood in the door way, holding out his arm. She kissed Vanozza, and went to him, holding him tightly.

“If I can get through this, so can you,” he told her.

She turned on him, “But you’re not getting through it, anyone else might believe you, but I don’t. You don’t think I see how you look at her? When she became a woman you had to face how you felt about her, didn’t you? Sometimes I wonder if I am just a diversion for you because you can’t have her.”

“That is not fair, you know that’s not true. Have I ever, ever, given you a reason to doubt my love for you?” He tightened the grip he had on her arm, “Do you not know that I love you?” Tears were forming at the corners of his eyes.

She brushed them away with her fingers, “No, I suppose not, but I don’t know if I can bear knowing that I share you with her. We love each other, the three of us. Lucrezia is the only sister I have ever known. I have shared my deepest secrets with her, secrets only sisters share. I think…” she broke away from him, “I think I should leave. I don’t want to, but I should. Maybe if I do, you’ll do what you haven’t done all along, save my sister for me. And I can have the husband and family that I want, all those things that we can’t have.”

Cesare jerked his head at her, “We have to go, we’re going to be late.” Nothing, as usual, had been solved.

 

The processional was very grand. The lords and ladies of the Papal Court paraded behind a radiantly beautiful Lucrezia. Constanzia had been placed strategically behind La Bella, forming a contrast that the men sitting in Saint Peter’s pleasantly contemplated as they walked by. For a brief moment she saw Calvino smiling at her and that gave her courage.  


How cold this wedding is, she thought, so unlike my own. Lucrezia’s groom stands at the altar so arrogant and superior in his opinion of himself. You won’t keep faith for long, will you, Sforza, you probably won’t keep faith at all. And if you are not good to my Lucrezia, I will kill you myself if Cesare fails me.

She was relieved when it was over, and wanted to follow Cesare out, but La Bella took her arm and steered her in the direction of the guests. She forced herself to smile as she entered the great hall, and even consented when Juan took her arm to begin the dance.

“Calvino Pallavicini has been looking at you. When the bride walked by, he had eyes for no one but you. Funny, but I never really considered you one way or another until I saw the look on his face.”

She was whirled away into the arms of another dancer, Giovanni Sforza. “I had not known there were such beauties in the Borgia family,” he said as he twirled her around, "But I think you might almost surpass your cousin, signorina.”

“It’s ‘Signora’, my lord, I am a widow.” She paid little attention to him, for she could see Cesare flirting with a blond nymph out of the corner of her eyes.

When Cesare took her in his arms, she found it hard to hold back her temper. “How could you flirt with her in front of me?” she demanded, “You’ve always had the consideration to keep your mistresses out of my sight. What is so different about her?” 

And thankfully, she found herself now in the arms of Calvino Pallavicini, “My lady, you look so beautiful that you outshine the bride.” He gave her his dazzling smile.  


“That is kind, my lord, but no one can outshine my cousin Lucrezia, especially on her wedding day. I am but a poor shadow.”

He would have answered her, but she was swept away from her, and now Juan had her again. “Be nice to him, his heart was quite broken when I took you away. You’re to marry him, didn’t you know? Didn’t my brother the cardinal tell you?”

When Calvino claimed her again, he asked softly, “May I see you tomorrow? I will not be free until the afternoon, but I would talk to you, if you would allow.”

She gave him the brilliant smile she used to bedazzle those she wished to confuse. “Yes, I would like that.” And another whisked her out of his arms.

During the banquet she could see that Lucrezia struggled to put up a brave front. She would have to see her to her bridal bed, and she wanted desperately to be excused. Sforza would have to restrain himself while consummating the marriage, Uncle Rodrigo would brook no cruelty. There would be plenty of time for that later. She was finding strange comfort in the looks Calvino was giving her. If he was the Pope’s choice, she would at least find herself married to someone young and handsome—and maybe even kind and considerate. 

She whispered in Lucrezia’s ear as she helped prepare her for her coming ordeal. “When you leave here, if he is any way cruel to you at all, you tell me, do you hear? Do not try to be noble, Cesare and I will fetch you home.”

She looked around and saw the girl she had planted among her cousin’s chambermaids. She nodded at her, safe in the knowledge that even if Lucrezia became hesitant or afraid, there was someone there who would let her know.

She was so tired when she finally retired to her bed that she did not have her maid take down her hair and remove her makeup. She was asleep almost as soon as her head hit the pillow, finding strange relief in the knowledge that Cesare was probably in the arms of what would be yet another new mistress.

Only he wasn’t. He stripped off his clothes, and climbed into her bed, waking her. She could smell the wine on his breath and knew he was upset. Did the mistress have a jealous husband, or was it the loss of Lucrezia? She was too tired to care, until he took her in his arms and started to caress her.

“No, Cesare,” she said, trying to fight him off, “Don’t!” He had never truly forced himself on her before, but she read the look in his eyes and knew that no matter how hard she fought him, he would not care. I won’t give in, she thought, I won’t I won’t, but it made little difference, and soon he had her, whether she willed it or not.


	9. The Will of a Prince and Not Mine Own

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cesare continues his cruelty to Constanzia, perhaps out of frustration at Lucezia's marriage, and fear that he will lose her too. She decides to go to Micheletto to ask him for help, fearful that Cesare might kill anyone she marries so that he can maintain his hold on her, but is frustrated as he appears unexpectedly. She finds that he is leaving for a few days and makes up her mind that if Calvino Pallavicini proposes to her she will accept so that she can try to escape him

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As I’m writing this, I’m getting the sense of Cesare being both vulnerable and villain. He has this unnatural love for his cousin and his sister that he can’t quite reconcile, so he gives himself over to it. He’s cruel to Constanzia because he fears losing her as he’s lost Lucrezia (at the moment, that is) 
> 
> This chapter seems too short, yet I thought I had a good stopping point and I wanted to post it.

When Constanzia awoke the next morning, she kept her eyes closed for a moment, hoping that when she opened them, he would be gone. He was not; he had pulled her close to him, wrapping his arms around her so that she could feel his hard body against hers. When she tried to push him away from her, he only tightened his grip. When she surrendered to him, he loosened his grip, and with one hand began to pull the remaining pins from her hair, dropping them carelessly on the floor.

“Why do you fight me, my love, you know how much I love you,” he said as he loosened her hair with his fingers, “Ah, that’s much better, hair like yours should hang loose and not be confined, my Moorish princess.”

“Do you really love me? Or am I your houris, Cesare? What about the nymph I saw you dancing with last night, you were all but undressing her with your eyes.” And she did not seem so terribly unhappy about it, she thought as she tried to push him away.

“Ah, my little Constanzia is angry with me? Perhaps I should have made sure you did not see, but who was the Genoan you were dancing with?”

“Calvino Pallavicini de Genoa, evidently the Pope intends for me to marry him. Now that uncle has married Lucrezia, it is to be my turn. He is rich, and well connected. He owns a fleet of ships, an alliance that will no doubt please the Holy Father.” If it had been meant as a taunt, she was not sure she had succeeded.

“I had not thought Father would marry you so soon,” he replied, “I have just lost Lucrezia; am I to lose you also?”

“And when did you plan to let me go, Cesare, so I can have the husband and family that I so long for?” She began to struggle against him, hoping to convince him to release her. He did not deserve to have her again, not after what he’d done the night before. “Please let me go Cesare!”

“I never thought you would ever have resisted me, and even after last night you have not learned your lesson? He pressed himself against her to show her how hard he had become, and after a few futile attempts at resistance, she surrendered to him, knowing it would do no good not to. “Pallavicini does not have you yet, and until he does, you are still mine.”

His lovemaking became hard and cruel, a reminder that she was his until he would be forced to let her go. It didn’t matter if he had Lucrezia, his new mistress did not matter, she was his and he expected her to obey him in all things. She turned her head to her pillow, and let the tears fall. It was better to yield to him, than to fight, the day must come soon when she would marry, but she could not bear too much more of this.

When he finished he held her close to him, as he always did. Exhaustion sent her to sleep and when she woke, he had left, leaving her alone in her bed. And as if to add insult to injury, a red rose lay next to her on her bed.

She rang for her maid, not stopping until she appeared.

“Yes, madam?” Carmilla had not even had a chance to change out of her night clothes, but she was devoted to her mistress.

“Have they started the fire in the kitchens? Is there hot water? I need to bathe now.” She looked up at Carmilla, her eyes desperate and pleading.

“If there is any to find, I will get it for you, mistress.” She picked up the rose still lying on the bed.

“Destroy it, Carmilla, please. I don’t want to see it.”

“Of course. And I will bring you some tea.” Gently pushing Constanzia back onto the bed she told her, “You rest, close your eyes, I will be back soon.” She ran to her room and threw on her dress, then went to the kitchens and ordered hot water for her mistress. When she returned she saw Constanzia curled up on the bed, crying.

“Oh, mistress,” she sat next to her on the bed, “How dare he do this to you?” She held Constanzia’s hand, waiting until she calmed down, then washed her eyes with cool water so they would not be red.

Soon Constanzia was sitting in the rose scented waters of her bath, sinking in so only her head could be seen. “He doesn’t matter, he doesn’t matter, he doesn’t matter,” Carmilla heard her whisper, and she urged her to sit up, and handed her the sponge and rose scented soap she loved—only to take it from her as Constanzia began to scrub herself violently.

“Did he leave any marks on me, Carmilla?”

Only on your soul, the maid thought then assured her that he had not. “He did not hit you, did he?” she asked her anxiously.

“No, he doesn’t need to; he bends me to his will and commands me with a word. I was never afraid of him, and now I don’t know what he will do. He was never cruel to me, never,” she lowered her voice to a whisper, “I need to get away from him, but will he let me?”

“If you marry, yes you can. Did you not tell me that Madame Vanozza said the Pope had a match he favored for you?”

“Yes, but will Cesare allow it to happen? Will he allow him to live? If he won’t let me go…”

“Then go to someone you know who will help you. What about Micheletto, he may be his master’s dog, but he cares for you, if only because Lord Cesare loves you. Can you ask him for help, what do you have to lose?”

“Yes, maybe, maybe Micheletto will help me. Sometimes I think he is more human than I give him credit. Maybe he might help me, but he is loyal to Cesare first.”

It seemed like it took an eternity to finish her bath and sit patiently while Carmilla braided her hair. She through a cloak over her blue and gold dress then sought the stables where Micheletto sometimes did tasks in the morning. And the Holy Mother must have been smiling on her; for she came upon him he was alone, repairing a saddle with a broken stirrup strap.

“Micheletto,” she said tenuously, and he looked up, “Why are you not having a groom do that?”

“Because, my lady, I wish to make sure it is done right. Is there something I can do for you?”

She looked at him and wondered why she was not more afraid of him. His scraggly red hair and beard looked almost orange against his pale white skin. The blue eyes always surprised her that they were almost volcanic in hue. And she knew that he was a first rate assassin, one of the best, Cesare had told her, yet he treated her with courtesy and there was no threat now in the frightening blue eyes.

“I wondered,” she started to say, then say Cesare coming towards them, dressed in ordinary clothes, not his red cardinal robes. She caught herself, “I wondered if you knew if Cesare was going to be leaving again and where he was going?” She knew that Micheletto knew she was lying, but he did not know the reason. Would he query Cesare later? With Micheletto you could never tell, and now she must wait to find out if he betrayed her.

Cesare put his arm around her, and kissed her. “I am going to Florence, I am glad you came here, I was going to find you to tell you good bye.”

“Is it Savonarola? Is Uncle sending you to see what he is up to?” She leaned into him, acting a part and hoping it was not obvious.

“Micheletto, a moment please?” Cesare looked meaningfully at him and Micheletto nodded and left. Cesare put his arms around her, “I am sorry I behaved the way I did, it was inexcusable; you must know I never treat you like that.”

But you did, she thought, you treated me no better than a common whore, but said out loud, “I will forgive you, but it must never happen again."

“I agree, Querida, now I must leave soon, I will tell you all that happened when I return.” He disappeared into the stable. When she could no longer see him, she lifted her skirt and ran back to her room.

I’m free, she thought, at least for a few days. I don’t know if anyone is spying on me, but I can meet with Calvino and if he proposes, I will tell him yes. I must get away from here, soon, or Cesare will have me tangled up in his web. Let everything go smoothly, God, please, I cannot bear too much more of this.


	10. The Betrothal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Constanzia readies herself to hear and accept Calvino's proposal. She is fortunate that Cesare is not there to take away the happiness and relief of being able to escape him. She realizes, though, that until she is safely married and in Genoa that she is not safe from Cesare, even though she is promised to another man.

I’ve discovered that once again I’ve strayed from an intended timeline in my story. If you can find it, you’re better than me because I couldn’t. Oh well, I’m known for changing my mind.

If only Lucrezia were here, she thought, then realized that she did not wish for Lucrezia to know how cruel Cesare could be. She would never tarnish the image Lucrezia had of her brother. Let her think him kind, and noble, and loving. There was one, however, she could perhaps go to, not to talk of him, but to help her with something else.

Julia Farnese and the Pope were enjoying their breakfast and obviously had not expected company, but La Bella quietly requested a place be set for Constanzia. She allowed herself to be seated at the table, and then spoke to the Pope and La Bella of ordinary things, until Alexander left the table, kissing both the ladies fondly on the cheek.

“Now my dear,” said Julia, “Will you tell me why you have blessed me with your presence? I do not see much of you, though I would like that to change.”

“Will you do my hair? Not too elaborately, but as you might for a special occasion? And help me put on a little makeup?”

Farnese smiled, “Would you like to borrow one of my gowns, also? I think you might fit. I take it something special is in the air.”

Constanzia sighed. “I am to meet Calvino Pallavicini this afternoon, and I would like to take extra care with my hair and my dress. Not too much,” she added, “I just want to look especially pretty for him. I know Uncle has been talking about arranging a marriage between us, and now that Cesare is gone I would like to look—different.”

Ah, that was it, Farnese thought, Rodrigo thinks only of an advantageous match, not realizing at the same time that his son has controlled his cousin so completely that she thinks of escape. 

“Do you think you would like to marry him, dear?” she asked her.

“Well, he seems kind. He is handsome, not as handsome as Cesare,” Constanzia stopped herself, she had not intended to mention her cousin, but it was too late. “We are to meet this afternoon, and if Uncle has approved the match, I think he will propose.”

“And if he does?” asked La Bella.

“I will accept. I want the safety of a marriage. I want children, I have always wanted them. I would like to fall in love with him, but if I can’t, I want to like him and be his partner as much as his wife. I do not know if he would let me…”

“But he might,” Julia replied reading her mind, “I think he will be in negotiations with your uncle this morning, and there might only be last minute arrangements to be made, such as finalizing your dowry. Your uncle intends to supplement the amount your father cannot pay, I am sure. This is a good match for both of you, he will have connections to Rome and Rome will have an interest in the Genoan trade. And you, my child, are as beautiful as Scheherazade herself. You will look irresistible when you meet your Genoan this afternoon, and I think I have just the gown for you to wear when you do.”

 

And irresistible was how she felt when Farnese finished with her. Her hair had been braided around her head, and fresh flowers tucked into the dark coils. The neckline of Julia’s dress revealed a hint of her breasts—neither too modest not too nor too unseemly for this meeting. She had worn this dress when she first met the pope, Julia assured her, and perhaps it would bring her luck when she met Calvino.

And the embroidered gold slippers that peeped from beneath her skirts were good for walking. Take him into the gardens, Farnese urged, there were places where they could escape their chaperones for just a moment. And if he kissed her, let it be briefly on the lips, not the lovers’ kiss, not yet, just to let him know she found him pleasing. A little modesty, but don’t be prudish, Calvino had seemed like a lusty young man when she met had him.

A message arrived, “Would the Signora Borgia meet him in the Vatican gardens?”

“Good luck, my dear,” Julia kissed her on the forehead, “I think you are doing very well for yourself, and don’t forget to let him know how lucky he is!”

Carmilla was there with a shawl in case she got cold. “You look beautiful,” her maid told her, “He cannot help but be pleased with what he sees.”

“Let us hope that negotiations have been successful and that he means to propose. I wish I could be married and gone before Cesare returns, but I know that is not possible. If I am to be married, my parents will want a proper marriage for me, even if uncle has to pay for it, and I am sure he will. If I am in Genoa, Carmilla, do you think I will be safe—from him?”

 

Calvino stood, a young man with bronze colored hair at his side whom he introduced as his brother, Raphaello. Normally she loved to walk in the gardens, but today she felt nervous, apprehensive. When Calvino offered her his arm and asked if she wish to accompany him, she agreed and offered him a tour of the gardens which she now knew well.

They paused only briefly at the magnificent Vatican coat of arms done in living flowers. They passed the fountains, statuary, and the clipped and shaped box hedges she especially loved for their cool greenness. What kind of gardens would there be in Genoa, she wondered?

She took him to her favorite place, the humble kitchen gardens, plain yet elegant in their simplicity and the orchards. Calvino picked a fresh, ripe peach for her, then laughed at her dismay as the juices began to run down her chin. He wiped them off with his own silk handkerchief, then took a bite out of the offending peach before tossing it aside.  
They turned back to the box hedges and the little benches that were placed here and there in the garden, then sat as Rafaello and Carmilla placed themselves at a strategic distance.

She looked at him surreptitiously. If he was not as heartbreakingly handsome as Cesare, he had a very pleasing countenance nonetheless. His brown curls were darker than hers, and his eyes were true brown with thick black lashes. His skin was lighter than hers, the warm ivory color of the Spaniard where she was pale gold. Looking at his mouth she hoped that he broke propriety and kissed her, she would very much like to be kissed by that mouth, she decided.

He was silent for a moment, then began to speak. “I know it is hard, signora, to be expected to make up your mind to marry someone you hardly know, but that is how it is with arranged marriages. I have spoken to the pope who has the voice of your father in this matter, and he has given his consent. I would be very pleased, very pleased, if you would agree to marry me. I know it will be hard, I understand you have not been a widow for very long and were very fond of your husband…”

“Stop right there. Yes, I will marry you and live with you in Genoa if it pleases you. If you promise to treat me kindly and try to make me happy, that will be a good enough start. If we can start by liking each other, maybe liking can grow into love.”

Calvino took her hands in his, “I like you very much, signora. I have liked you since I saw you at your cousin’s wedding,” then surprised her by kissing her with more enthusiasm than perhaps he should have, but there was a promise in that kiss that she could look forward to more.

She pulled away gently, her cheeks hot, then looked at him with her great dark eyes. “Shall we tell the Holy Father what he is no doubt hoping to hear?”

He looked at her, smiling, “It is what I was hoping to hear myself, but yes, let us go to the Holy Father and ask for his blessing.” His kiss was gentler this time, but his lips lingered and his fingers caressed her cheek.

 

Being the niece of the pope had its advantages, she thought, for as soon as Cardinal Sforza saw her, she and Calvino were announced to the Holy Father. Rodrigo beamed as they gave him their news, and blessed a beautiful diamond and ruby ring that Raphaello handed to him, then watched as Calvino slid it onto her finger.

All those observing applauded, perhaps more of self-interest than in congratulations to the new couple, but it was plain to all that Genoa would now be aligned in its interests with Rome. Constanzia had done very well for herself, and everyone in the room knew it.

She wore another of La Bella’s gowns that night, feeling like a princess as she stood before the mirror. The pope gave her a magnificent diamond necklace with matching earrings that must have cost a small fortune, and she wondered where it had come from.

At the banquet that night she whispered in Calvino’s ear, “I wish we could run away to a hermit’s cell and have him marry us so we could be married now. Two months seems like an eternity.”

He toasted her, then took a sip of the pope’s excellent wine, “So do I, my darling. It is taking all my self-control not slip into your bedchamber tonight and celebrate our marriage bed. But you would not do that to your parents, yes? I also hear that your uncle is very fond of weddings, so we must not deprive him of ours.” He leaned over and kissed her, “Do not doubt that I would sweep you out of here and have you right now if I could.”

“Even if I said yes?” she said wistfully.

“Especially if you said yes. I will save you from both of us. It won’t be so long, me amor, I will be here a week before the wedding. Time will fly, you will see.”

She wasn’t so sure. She saw him off the next day, holding back her tears. While he was there, she felt like she had a shield against Cesare, but Cesare would be back soon, far sooner than she would be ready.

Even the gift that Calvino sent her two weeks later did not allay her fears, for Cesare had returned home. Her Genoan had sent a number of bolts of beautiful material, silks, satins, and brocades of many colors that were now displayed in the pope’s audience room. There was a small fortune in fabrics lying around, and the most beautiful and costly of all was a bolt of cloth of gold, and a white and gold brocade that was intended for her wedding dress.

“Your Genoan is a wealthy man,” Cesare said to her, and she reflected on how she hadn’t realized just how rich Calvino was. 

“He would not have won my hand if he wasn’t. Juan has taken to him for just that reason, I am sure.” She watched as the fabric was taken to Farnese’s chambers. “I had not thought to be one of the Borgia marriage pawns. Lucrezia has been married to the Papal States, I am to be married to Genoa, Juan or Gioffre will be married to Naples, for I know the Holy Father wishes for an alliance there. If you ever succeed in shedding your cardinal’s robes, where will he marry you? France, perhaps?”

“Hush,” he said and squeezed her arm until it hurt. She tried to pull away, but he did not release her until the expression on her face let her know he had made his point. “I am coming to see you tonight, I have not been in your bed since before I went to Florence. Fiancé or not, you are mine until your wedding day, and don’t worry, your Genoan will not know unless you tell him, and that would not be a very good idea.”

 

The next day Vanozza made a rare visit to La Bella’s chambers. There the two ladies picked out a bolt of fabric that suited them. La Bella chose a sapphire blue and Vanozza an emerald green that suited her coloring wonderfully. 

Constanzia watched, tears in her eyes. “I wish Lucrezia were here, there are too many beautiful colors that would suit her, and I can’t imagine which one she would pick.”

Vanozza put her arm around her shoulders, “She will be here for your wedding, or perhaps sooner, she can pick then and will be happy to choose anything you still have. You have a very kind and generous fiancé, my dear, I am sure he will make you very happy.”

“Yes, I am sure he will,” she agreed, but could not stop thinking of Cesare’s slow, deliberate lovemaking of the night before. 

“Little deer,” he had called her, like the lover of her dreams. He had not forced her this time, she had practically begged him to take her as he teased her with tongue, hands, and fingers. “I am going to make you remember this,” He’d said, “Every time your Genoan touches you, you are going to remember my hands on you, what they felt like. Ah, I can feel you trembling beneath my touch, but I am not going to give you release, not yet, not yet. Who, now, do you truly belong to, little deer?”

“You,” she cried, not able to help herself, “Only you.”


	11. Daughters and Marriages

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lucrezia comes to Rome with her husband, Giovanni Sforza, to attend Constanzia's wedding. That night, as they talk together in Constanzia's room, she reveals to them that she is pregnant, and not quite sure if the baby is her husband's. After she pleads fatigue and goes to bed, Cesare tells Constanzia that Sforza has not been adhering to the marriage treaty, and has made an unsuccessful attempt to spy for the French. The Holy Father has decided that he should be gotten rid of, and has ordered Cesare to kill him. Cesare plans to tell Lucrezia about this the next morning. When he does, he discovers that his plan has backfired on him. Lucrezia has retreated to the San Sisto convent to wait out her confinement, and Sforza has disaappeared, because Lucrezia has told him of her father and brother's plans.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m taking a turn from how the stories are usually written in fan verse and otherwise. Historically, Giovanni Sforza did not rape Lucrezia on their wedding night, nor did he abuse her, he was actually 29 as opposed to being in his 40’s. Cesare and the Pope did plot to get rid of him, but there is a story, apocryphal, mind you, that Cesare told Lucrezia and she told Giovanni. He actually did run, but who told him? Who knows? I thought that would make an interesting side plot, so I wrote it that way. Hope it meets your approval!

Calvino had not been right. The days did not fly by, but dragged endlessly until the morning she woke up with the cramps, and felt the familiar stickiness of blood on her thighs. She offered a prayer to the Holy Virgin, wondering if she had waited, counting days, hoping that she would not find herself with child. Had the Virgin ever been in love with someone young and handsome? What had she wanted for herself before her fate had been chosen for her? A young, handsome husband and children?

The pain shot through her again and she curled up in a ball, trying to will it to go away. Carmilla came in and saw her mistress, a sigh of relief escaping her lips. She took the hand that Constanzia held out, grasping it tightly. There would be no child this month, and if Cesare would only leave her mistress alone, she would have the chance to put him out of her life forever.

The news that Lucrezia would be arriving with her husband cheered her up somewhat. Her cousin had not yet seen Calvino, had not had the chance to give him her approval. Constanzia had missed the nights they would cuddle together in bed, spin their dreams and ambitions. She wondered how Lucrezia found life with her older spouse. She had heard the Pope and Cesare speaking behind closed doors, learning that the alliance they had counting on had not come to fruition. If the Sforzas had not intended to live up to their agreement, why arrange the marriage? The thirty-one thousand ducat dowry they had asked for and received might have been incentive.

Her dowry had been barely half that, but she was not the Pope’s daughter, only his niece. She did not envy her cousin, if Sforza died, Lucrezia might face yet another loveless political marriage, unless, of course, she fell in love with one of her suitors as she had. As is stood, Lucrezia’s marriage had been consummated, and Sforza was a healthy young man and unlikely to die soon. She wondered idly how far her uncle and Cesare would go if they wanted to end this marriage in favor of a more advantageous one.

A few days passed, and she received the news that Lucrezia and her husband would be arriving in the afternoon. Arrangements were made for a welcoming banquet, and she picked through her newly made dresses for something to wear. She settled on a dark blue satin, bordered with gold. In spite of Cesare’s wishes, she had La Bella’s maid do her hair for her, rim her eyes with kohl and rouge her lips. She and La Bella were also trying different ways of arranging her hair for her wedding to suit the gold headdress that Calvino had sent her.

Cesare was caught up in the opportunity to see his sister again, seemingly ignoring her. She did not mind, her marriage was drawing close, and she was afraid that Cesare would seek out her bed to make good on his promise to get her pregnant before her wedding. She did not want him to force himself on her, she would be more than grateful to be left alone.

Finally it was announced that the party from Pesaro was arriving. She ran to the great portico and in her eagerness she almost slipped and fell.

Cesare caught her, and put his arm around her waist to keep her from falling. “Careful,” he laughed, “I cannot wait to see her too, but you will not enjoy her company so much if you hurt yourself.” He kept a firm grip on her.

You can’t get me pregnant yet, Cesare, she thought, in a few days, yes, but not now. She watched as Giovanni and Lucrezia made their way up the stairs to bow and kiss the Pope’s ring. A strange way to greet your father, she thought, there is so much pomp and circumstance in Rome that it makes me long to be a simple noble’s daughter in Valencia. And now instead of escaping it, I’m marrying into it in Genoa. They are so power hungry and ambitious here, I wonder if I will have to learn to be that way for Calvino?

Alexander was enfolding Lucrezia in his arms. Lucrezia looked strangely content, Constanzia had not expected that. Giovanni Sforza looked as arrogant as he did the day he married his young bride, but Lucrezia looked more confident than cowed. Was it as Ascanio had predicted, did his young bride rule the household? Lucrezia was another grasping, greedy Borgia which made her a match for any Sforza, save Katerina, the true ruler of the clan. Had Cesare not said that one of the things he loved about her was the fact that she did not care for power? 

 

That night the three of them gathered themselves in Constanzia’s room, drinking wine and talking amongst themselves; Cesare in the middle, and the girls on either side. Lucrezia’s pearly skin and golden hair glowed in the candlelight. Constanzia sure that she was a poor second until Lucrezia exclaimed over how lovely she looked in the light of the candles, her skin almost the color of precious gold.

“And I hear you are to be married, cousin, and a most fortunate match at that! I heard that a certain handsome Genoan stole your heart and we will see you married within a fortnight!” Lucrezia smiled mischievously at her own words.

“Handsome, yes, young, not so much—he is the same age as your husband though he looks younger. And he’s generous, he sent me so many bolts of beautiful fabric, you must choose one or two that suit your fancy. And he has a younger brother that I think will suit your fancy, tall, dark golden hair and seems kindness itself. If your husband bores you, you could divert yourself if you pleased.”

Lucrezia shook her head, “No, not now. I am almost six months gone with child, it would not be possible.”

Cesare and Constanzia shared a look, then he said, “Why did you not tell us sooner, does your husband know?”

“Yes, he knows, he also knows it might not be his. There are agreements we have made with each other, that certain things are not spoken of. I do not love my husband, but we do live compatibly. I do not mind him quite so much as I thought I would, nor he me. If I could get out of this marriage, I would, but not out of hate for him.”

Her cousin looked irritatingly serene. Lucrezia had clearly taken control of her situation and turned it to her advantage. Perhaps it was Katerina who possessed the brains in the Sforza family, and Ludovico and Giovanni were just weak.

Lucrezia sat up. “I am sorry, but this pregnant lady had a long journey and she is tired and longs for her bed. I will see the two of you tomorrow, I hope.”

Cesare sat up, “Do you want me to see you to bed, sis?”

“No, I am fine, keep Constanzia company. I’ve arranged to have my husband housed in his own separate rooms so I will have a peaceful night. Do not look for me too early tomorrow, I have become rather fond of sleeping these days.” She kissed them goodnight and left.

“Well, this is not what I expected, did you? Do you think her husband might be the father of her child after all?” Constanzia looked at him.

He smiled, “I don’t know, but now it is going to be harder to tell her what I have been keeping a secret from you. Father wants Sforza killed, he’s not keeping faith with the marital treaty, and he’s made a pathetic attempt at spying for the French. He has given me the task of taking care of this, and I can’t say that I mind too much.”

“I will have to confess this somehow to Ascanio, but I don’t mind so much, either. When will you tell Lucrezia?”

Cesare took her in his arms, “Tomorrow, I have better things to do tonight,” As he bent his mouth down to seek hers, she tried to push him away.

“Cesare, I…” but he silenced her.

“You are almost clean, yes? This is not the first time, now is it? I want you right now, my beautiful girl, and I will have you. Who is your lord?” His hazel eyes stared into hers.

“You, for now, but that is changing soon, cousin,” she teased.

“Don’t remind me,” he growled and took her lips with his.

 

When she woke the next morning, he was getting dressed. She held out her hand and pulled him to her, “Do not leave me, Cesare, you would not leave me,” she said, sweetly beguiling.

“I have to talk to Lucrezia, my love, I would have this over and done with.” He smiled at her, and reached out his hand to caress her breast.

“Lucrezia is still asleep, the child probably makes her want to sleep as much as she can. Would you wake her?”

“I must. It’s better if I tell her before the household is awake, besides, she can always go back to sleep.” He grinned at her.

“I don’t think she will want to do that after she hears what you are going to say to her. Is it possible that you can just banish him? Must you kill him?”

He leaned down and kissed her, “Sweetheart, you know the answer to that, I do not need to tell you. Now, go back to sleep, I will see you after the deed is done.”

 

She was in her bath when he burst into the room. “Have you seen Lucrezia? I cannot find her anywhere!”

“Well, did you tell her?” she looked at Carmilla, “Leave us, I will call for you.” She knew that her maid would be just outside the door, listening, which was exactly what she wanted her to do.

“Well, yes, I did, shortly after I left your rooms.”

“So Cesare, how did she take it?” 

“Well, she wasn’t pleased, but she didn’t seem too upset—at ending her marriage anyway.” He went over to the side of the tub and looked at her, “You know something, don’t you Constanzia?”

“Yes, I do, she’s retired to the convent of San Sisto to wait out her confinement and to see what you and the Pope decide. She’s not very happy with either of you at the moment. What were her words, hmmm?” She paused, looking at him, enjoying his discomfort, “Oh yes, what she said was, and I quote, ‘They don’t need to kill him.’ I believe he’s in hiding right now and he plans to flee Rome as soon as he can.”

Cesare looked for something to kick, then remembered that though she rarely lost her temper, Constanzia in a rage was a thing to be avoided. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”

“Yes I am, immensely. I agree with Lucrezia, you don’t need to kill him. If you let him keep her dowry he might decide to be agreeable to your terms. Maybe. She’s indifferent to the fate of her marriage, but killing her husband is not acceptable. Maybe an annulment?”

“Constanzia, when did you become a politician?” He dipped his hand into her bathwater, testing it, then smiled and began to remove his clothes.

“I didn’t invite you to share my bath, Cesare!”

“Did I say I required an invitation? Tell your maid to stop listening at the door, and bring us more hot water.”

“I hate you sometimes.” She glared at him.

“Well, you need only put up with me for another fortnight, and I believe we have something to take care of, don’t we?” He reached his hand underwater and found her thighs, slowly drawing them apart. She did not fight him when he kissed her—both of them knew she wouldn’t anyway.


	12. To Fear the Known and the Unknown

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lucrezia has taken refuge in the Convent of San Sisto to wait out her lying in and the results of the hearing on the annulment. She suspects that now that Constanzia his leaving, he will transfer his attentions to her, which somehow does not distress her. Constanzia reveals to her that she thinks she may be pregnant with Cesare's child, and Lucrezia assures her that she is not so far along that Calvino will not know that it is not his. Constanzia is married, and she prepares to move to Genoa with Calvino to begin a new life

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm surprised that there might be some people rushing to conclusions about what is going on in the story. Cesare and Lucrezia don't have a relationship yet. Yes, it's coming, but not yet (unless I change my mind, lol!)

Lucrezia’s apartments at the convent of San Sisto were spacious, and she had brought in the comforts she felt she was entitled to. Among these were a bed, and furnishings, along with three maids and two manservants, and a cook the Pope has thoughtfully provided. If they were not the equal of her rooms in the Vatican, it was only because there would be no time to paint frescoes on the walls, Constanzia teased.

“Are you sure this is what you want?” Constanzia asked, but she didn’t really need an answer. Lucrezia had grown up since her wedding, and was discovering her own power. She was learning to make shrewd decisions on her own, and if Constanzia wished that she had preserved a little more of her innocence, she was pleased to see the self-assured young woman Lucrezia was growing into.

“Yes, if you can believe it. I feel quite safe here. Father told me that he is going to seek an annulment, and since that can only be non-consummation of the marriage, he must be quite sure that he can attain it. Giovanni will get to keep my dowry, imagine, thirty one thousand ducats, the largest ever, that should make it easier for him to swallow his pride and debase himself. He’ll marry again, someone he likes better, I’m sure.”

“But you won’t be at my wedding. I’ll bring Calvino for you to meet, but it won’t be the same. You’ll like him, I promise, and I’m sure he’ll like you, for my sake if nothing else. I am hoping he will let me come to Rome four your lying in, I can’t imagine not being here.”

Lucrezia took her hand, “If he is as kind as you say he is, I’m sure he will. You may even be expecting your own child by then.”

“I may be expecting one now .” She left her words hanging. If Lucrezia had suspected she was still Cesare’s lover, now she knew for sure. 

Lucrezia squeezed the hand she held, “If it is his my dearest,” both knew whom she meant, “Calvino most likely won’t know,” she said, reading Constanzia’s mind, “I promise. If it’s a boy, he’ll be too pleased with the birth of a son to pay attention, and if it’s a girl, if he has any doubts he’ll be inclined to dismiss them. Men see what they want to see.” 

“I’ve told him if I ever have a girl, I’m naming her ‘Lucrezia the Younger’.” Cesare did not yet know that she might be pregnant. Would he want to claim the child as his own? How many children did he have, anyway? One thing that was common among the Borgia’s, they loved their children.

“And at least one of mine will be ‘Constanzia’. I’ve always had a love for my brother that seems to surpass just sisterly love. As long as you’ve been around, it’s always been a seemly love, but now?” Lucrezia leaned closer to Constanzia, “You’re the only person that I know I can admit this to. While I was young, he restrained himself, now things are changing fast. I’ve seen how he is with you, how much he loves you, how he can’t bear to let you go, but now you can get away. Tell me cousin, did he make you happy?”

“Yes, at times he did, but that doesn’t mean I did not want him to let me go. Be careful, cousin, he might love you with all his heart, but sometimes his love is cruel. If you want my advice on the matter, I would tell you, don’t do it, don’t let him have you. But, if he wants you, if he truly wants you, you will find him hard to resist—I did anyway. You’re safe while you’re with child, and until you have been churched. After that, it will be up to you.”

She stood up and kissed Lucrezia on the lips. “I know you are stronger than me, if you tell him “no” he will give in to your wishes, if not, I know you can manage him. I’m done, I have a husband that I love, Cesare is my past, Calvino my future.”

 

It was not the usual custom for the bridegroom to arrive so early before the wedding, but Constanzia had pleaded, and the Pope had granted permission. She and Calvino, always chaperoned, enjoyed riding, boating on the Tiber, hunting, and long walks together. Even after his affectionate proposal he had seemed something of a stranger, but they were growing an easy familiarity with each other that put them at ease.

Calvino was her shield against Cesare, with him near she felt protected. The men would go hunting together, and each time they left, she prayed that no harm had been done to Calvino or his brother. When they returned, she would look for Rafaello and Calvino first, then when she saw them, she would paste a false smile on her face and ask if the hunting had been good.

The morning of her wedding, she woke feeling slightly sick, but gave it no thought. She bathed in scented waters, then Vanozza and La Bella came and oversaw her dressing. Her gown of cloth of gold felt heavy, but bearable, her hair was braided and tiny white flowers woven into the dark coils, then the sheer silk veil was pinned to her head. When she saw the finished product, with the light touches of rouge and her kohl rimmed eyes, she felt like she was staring at a stranger.

Cesare came and took her arm, and the procession formed behind her. She had not wanted so elaborate a wedding, but now she did not regret it. She felt like a princess as Cesare escorted her to the altar, where Calvino and his brother, resplendent in white and gold brocade, awaited her.

As they exchanged vows, it seemed like a dream. She barely heard the words Ascanio spoke, and it seemed like it was over in a minute. Then followed the banqueting, and the music, and the dancing, and she became lost in the celebration, enjoying herself, much to her surprise.

At last she was lead to the bridal chambers. Her maids let her hair down, and dressed her in a sheer silk nightgown. Calvino came in, dressed for bed, and dismissing the servants and bidding them goodnight, slid into the bed next to her.

“At last,” she told him, “I feel like have waited forever for you,” and he agreed. She smiled as he slipped the gown off her shoulders, listened to him whisper, “Oh, my darling, you are more beautiful than I imagined!”

“Then come here and tell me just how beautiful you think I am.” She smiled and held out her bare arms. He slipped his nightgown over his head, and came to her.

“I will show you,” he smiled and kissed her more deeply than he had before. His mouth found her breasts and her belly, and he smiled at her for just a moment before he plunged himself into her. It was close to dawn before they went to sleep, each satisfied that they were happy with the partner they had chosen. They made love again when they woke, even though they were tired, they could not seem to get enough of each other.

She lay, entwined in his arms, then the twinges of nausea came again. Not bad, she had but she knew the signs of morning sickness with her first. It was not so bad, as it had not been so bad before. She was not so far along that Calvino would not know this baby was not his. I should be ashamed of myself, she thought, but what I am is grateful, and said a prayer to the Holy Mother.

And Calvino must not know the truth, she told herself. He had freed her from Cesare, and from now on she would concentrate on being a good wife.

Carmilla had prepared her bath, and strewn it with rose petals. She pinned up Constanzia’s hair, then retreated, leaving her and Calvino to themselves. Now the initial awkwardness was past, and they gave each other looks of knowing; they needed no words, communicating only in smiles.

An elaborate wedding breakfast had been prepared, mostly family, but a few of the nobility. Toasts were drunk, sly jokes were made about the beauty of the bride and the happiness of the marriage bed.

When Cesare stood up and toasted, “To my beloved cousin and her new husband,” she held her breath, fearful of what more he might say. When he concluded only with the union of the houses and the happiness of the new couple, she breathed a sigh of relief. Thank goodness he did not know she suspected she was pregnant. His toast had just been another way of letting her know he had no intention of allowing her to escape him. But his time was over, whether he was willing to admit it or not. Soon she would depart for Genoa with Calvino, far enough from Rome that Cesare could not touch her.

It had been decided that the wedding party and guests would hunt that afternoon. She had not yet decided on which horse she would ride. If she rode her Arabian, she would be able to keep up with the others on their hunters, but Calvino had gifted her with a hunter that she had not yet had a chance to ride. Two beautiful, fast horses—and such a pleasurable decision to be made.

She was about to ask for the hunter to be brought out so she could inspect it when someone placed a hand over her mouth and dragged her to the tack room. Holding onto her with one hand, Cesare shut the door with the other.

“Now, madam, do we talk? Or are you going to scream if I remove my hand?" I almost wish you would, he thought, but did not say it. She nodded, and he slowly removed his hand from her mouth. He caressed her throat and slid his hand down her breasts.

“No,” she said, and pulled away, “No more, not now, not ever again. What do you want from me, Cesare?”

“Are you with child?” he asked bluntly, and she nodded her head. “Is it mine?” she paused for a moment, nodded again. “Querida,” he said and reached for her, but she would not let him touch her.

“I said no, I mean no. I will have to lie to my husband, lie to my child, my priest, my confessor because this is a thing no one must ever know. I would get rid of it, but I do not want to have that on my conscience. This pregnancy is so new that it will be easy to convince him it is his. I won’t be your houris again, Cesare, not ever. We are through.”

“Are you sure?” he asked and took her into his arms so quickly and kissed her that she had no chance to resist. For a moment, just a brief moment, she melted and gave into him, then pushed him away.

“Don’t ever do that again,” she warned and slapped his face, then left the tack room, and him, behind.

He watched, as smile on her face, as she hurried away. “Farewell sweet cousin,” he said softly, “I will be seeing you again, you can count on it.”

 

She was trying not to cry, but there were tears forming in her eyes, anyway, blinding her. So oblivious was she to the things around her that she did not notice when she ran into her husband, unaware it was him.

“Querida,” he said tenderly, she wished he would not use Cesare’s endearment for her, but she would not tell him that, “You are crying, whatever is wrong? Tell me and I will make it right if I can.”

“Oh, Calvino, I am so sorry. I became overwhelmed with emotions.” She lay her cheek against his velvet covered chest, “Things have happened so quickly in the past few years, or so it seems. First I am sent away to Toledo to be married, then my husband dies and I must return back home. My parents decided to send me to Rome to help my melancholy, and now I will be leaving Rome for Genoa.” She looked up at him, “Please believe me, I leave Rome gladly, for I leave with the best of husbands. It’s just that…it is so much change in so short a time. And I am leaving my pregnant cousin behind and that is hard, too.”

He held her close, stroking her hair, “This is not what you expected for your life, is it? I was born to it, but you are the daughter of a simple Valencian nobleman who suddenly found herself the niece of the pope and became an unknowing pawn in the marriage game. I understand, my dear girl, I truly do. I promise you that you will find many diversions in Genoa, and I promise to teach you about my world, so unlike the one you find yourself in.” He leaned down and kissed her. “I will send you to your cousin when she begins her lying in, do not fear. I know of the closeness of sisters and cousins, believe me.”

They walked, arm in arm, back to the palace, oblivious to the fact that Cesare and Micheletto followed. “I must be careful,” Cesare said to his manservant, “If something happens to him, she will suspect and not forgive me, so his welfare must become important to us. Unfortunately, I do not think he will outlive his usefulness as Sforza did. I cannot believe there is no way at the present to get rid of him, but maybe in time?” He shook his head, and the two disappeared into the shadows.


	13. Sancia, Brothers, and Babies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Naples seeks an alliance with Rome in order to maintain its independence from France. Sancia, illegitimate daughter of Alphonso II, is married to Gioffre. He is 12, she is 16 and lusty, far too much so to be happy with such a young husband. Soon Cesare and she are having an affair, and she also seeks after the attentions of Juan. Lucrezia is in the convent of San Sisto, waiting on the birth of her child. As she promised, Constanzia comes from Genoa to be with her for the birth. Constanzia and Cesare find they don't want to resist each other, and Sancia is forced to fall back on Juan's attentions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a note: for those of you who are wondering why I haven't brought in the Cesare/Lucrezia/Constanzia love triangle yet--it's because it hasn't happened. Even with the OC's I've thrown in, I'm trying to (sort of) stay true to the historical while writing the story. And I want to write it right, so to speak, it has to flow in as part of the story. Lucrezia married at 13 in real life, had her baby; Juan and Cesare competed with Juan for Sancia's attentions, and that was too delicious for me to ignore. Remember, in the series it took a while for the relationship between Lucrezia and Cesare to develop. Patience, my readers, patience

Author’s note: Again, I am trying to bring this a little more in line historically. It seems to be fact, for the most part, that both Cesare and Juan were competing for Sancia’s attentions. And that she seemed to enjoy the favors of both. When Juan was killed, it was rumored that not only did Cesare covet the command of the army, but it was also said he wished to eliminate his brother as a rival for her attentions—until he married Charlotte de Albret, that is. Can’t make up stuff like this. And her father was Alfonso II, not Ferrante. Gotta love history

Sancia and Lucrezia became close friends, and it was rumored that she sent her illegitimate to live with her for a time. (Sancia died at 27 or 28.) Sometimes I wish there was a way to verify facts with historical families like the Borgias, but there isn’t.

 

Later, much later, it was whispered by some that Sancia of Naples was the source of the trouble. Others said the elder Borgia brothers were most likely at fault. And who was to say it was not unlikely that the marriage of a twelve year old boy to a sixteen year old girl certainly added to the problem, even if she knew her duty as a wife. And was it true that Cesare…? No, it was best not to think about that, not if you valued your neck.

The Pope was of a mood to seek alliances, and Naples was a good place to start. Naples wanted its independence recognized to help protect it from France. Naples had made it clear that it would pay a generous dowry for just that, and they had just the girl in mind, Sancia, King Alfonzo II’s illegitimate daughter. And the marriage, Gioffre and Sancia would become Prince and Princess of Squillace, obtaining an income in the process.

No one knew if Sancia was asked what she thought, no one bothered to find out if she had been willing. When the beautiful dark-eyed heiress was presented to the family, she did not pass unnoticed by Gioffre’s two older brothers. And maybe that was when the trouble started.

Lucrezia, in the meantime, was passing her days content in the little nest she had made for herself in the convent of San Sisto. Her pregnancy could not be hidden now, and the only time she needed to leave was when she had to attend the Papal Court for her annulment. The only visitors she allowed were the Pope, her mother Vanozza, her brothers, which meant Cesare, and La Bella. And when she could not avoid it, Sancia.

On a bad day, like today, she would prefer to see no one at all. The baby was heavy in her womb, had thankfully slowed down its movements, but her advanced pregnancy was making her tired beyond bearing, and she wanted nothing more than to sleep, but sleeping had become extremely uncomfortable. She waited by the day for Constanzia to arrive, could not wait for her to arrive in fact. They could snuggle together in bed like sisters, and to her she could confide all the little unhappinesses she wished to voice to no one else.  
Since the marriage of Sancia and Gioffre, she had begun to see less of Cesare. He and Sancia would visit her together, Sancia’s bold eyes casting glances around the room, taking in the sight of the luxurious furnishings Lucrezia had brought to make herself comfortable. The girl would take liberties, putting her hand on Lucrezia’s stomach, saying that soon she hoped to find herself with Gioffre’s child, giving the Pope the joy of another grandchild.

“If you were me, you would find that you were not quite so eager for it,” Lucrezia said irritably, and Cesare laughed and kissed her forehead.

“We would not exhaust you, sister, then, but take heart, Constanzia will be here any day.”

“Thank goodness for that,” she replied, and watched her brother and Sancia take their leave. What would Sancia think when Constanzia arrived and Cesare transferred his attentions to her? Sancia was very beautiful, but Constanzia was exquisitely so. Her skin was lighter than Sancia’s and her eyes a dark amber compared to compared to Sancia’s dark brown. She was sure that some men might prefer Sancia, but it was Constanzia who would command Cesare’s attentions, if she would let him.

Why didn’t Cesare show any remorse over cuckolding his youngest brother, she wondered. Gioffre was sensitive and she knew he would be hurt. Gioffre, in fact, was showing no interest in family politics whatsoever, much to the frustration of the Pope. She didn’t understand it either, but she didn’t mind. Cesare, Juan, and she had to admit it, even she were fiercely ambitious. Constanzia was not, but neither was she indifferent. She would devote herself to her husband’s own enterprises. Calvino seemed to greatly appreciate his wife’s capabilities.

Not the next day, not the day after that, but the following day saw the arrival of Constanzia. She was riding a golden horse with flaxen mane and tail, no doubt the gift of her adoring husband. Her riding dress was a dark golden brown, and her brown hair fell in a long braid down her back.

A groom helped her down and the Pope came to greet her, first as always. She curtsied, knelt and kissed his ring before being swept up into his arms for a hug. He held her at arms length, looking at her intently. “Marriage suits you my dear, you look absolutely radiant, and that cannot all be due to the fresh air.”

She greeted La Bella, kissing her cheeks abstractedly, obviously looking around for someone. Then Cesare came and swept her up off her feet. “Cousin,” he said, and spun her around and hugged her tightly. 

Sancia was not pleased with the way Cesare greeted his cousin, or the way she in turn returned his embrace. Cousinly affection, she wondered, or something else? She put a false courtier’s smile on her face as Cesare introduced her.

“Then we must be cousins, also,” Sancia said sweetly, instinctively knowing she was in the presence of a rival, “Tell me, is it true that you are part Turkish?”

“And Venetian,” Constanzia replied, and thought to herself, I know what you are thinking. Cesare must be cuckolding Gioffre with you and that’s hardly fair of him. She looked at Cesare, wondering. She was so sure that she could resist him, but at almost three months gone with child, she could safely sleep with her cousin and her husband would not know. I had not thought I would feel like this, she thought, but I still desire him and I’m sure he feels the same. I should not even think it, I should have stayed home and safe in Genoa. I carry so many sins I cannot confess, but the worst is that I feel no remorse for what I’ve done, I love him.

Sancia was looking her over, taking the measure of her beauty against her own. There was no mistaking the desire in Cesare’s eyes as he looked at his cousin and she had been certain Cesare’s desires had been exclusively for her. You’re no fool, Sancia, she told herself, you know that look. They were lovers and might be lovers still. At least there’s one more handsome Borgia brother, but you’ve lost the best one, at least until she returns to Genoa.

The next day Cesare took Constanzia to Saint Sisto to see Lucrezia. As bulky as she felt, Lucrezia ran into her cousin’s arms, kissing her and exclaiming at how her marriage must suit her. Then she suddenly had to sit down, “My pains have started,” she cried, “Have someone fetch the midwife.” One of her maids ran out the door, calling for help.

“Well,” said Constanzia, “You will not deliver right away, though you will no doubt wish you could. I have brought gifts from Calvino and me—mostly for the baby, but some for you too. It is too bad that we need to keep your chambers clear, but I’ll bring out what you might need today and show you the rest tomorrow.” She kissed her on the brow.

She’d brought all sorts of furnishings for the baby, including a lace covered bed. Little gowns trimmed in lace, swaddling bands and board, a little silver rattle, and other delights. There were nursing gowns for Lucretia, and shawls, and bolts of material for new dresses, for she knew that for a time at least, the baby would change her body.

Cesare returned to the Vatican, but Constanzia stayed, laying on the bed with Lucrezia and holding her hand. As the minutes and hours ticked by the pains slowly grew more frequent.

“Oh, how long must this last, cousin? Is this truly our punishment for the sin of Eve?”

“Some say so, but all I can tell you, is it will take as long as it takes. You should try to sleep a little, it helps if you rest. You have a very good midwife and she is looking after you. I need to go back and eat, and sleep a little myself. I will leave one of my maids here, and she will fetch me the minute it looks like the baby will finally come. Be of good cheer, we Borgias are built for bearing babies and the midwife says all is well. It is only that you are afraid, and every woman is nervous the first time.”

Lucrezia kissed her hand, “Go, I am ashamed to say that I have not even thought about you. You must still be tired from your journey. I cannot wait until I can see the rest of my gifts. I will take your advice and try and rest.”

Vanozza came into the room, “Constanzia, you must eat! I will stay with her, and I am sure that Roderigo will be here soon. You will be well looked after, Lucrezia, don’t fear, my love.”

Cesare was waiting outside the door and put his arm around her waist to support her. “I am here to see that you eat and take a little rest. The midwife told me it will be some time yet.”

She leaned against his shoulder out of habit, not really meaning to. “You could have brought me a carriage or at least a litter,” she murmured and listened to him laugh. She had missed that laugh.

“It doesn’t take that long to walk back to the Vatican, my little lazy girl. Your dinner has been brought to your rooms and I’ve arranged for someone to notify us when it’s time to return. You didn’t think you were going to get away from me so easily, did you?”

“No,” she retorted, “I knew better than that. Has little Gioffre’s bride been keeping you occupied? Poor girl, a lusty sixteen year old with a twelve year old for a husband. I won’t even ask how easy it was for her to entice you. You have always had a weakness for beauty.”

“As do you. Were it not for the fact that you and Juan hate each other, I would have worried about having a rival for your bed. Tell me, how many scruples are you going to have regarding your husband while you’re here? Maybe I should kidnap you and take you far away from here, that is my baby you carry inside you after all.” He paused and took her face in his hands and kissed her.

She resisted at first, but surrendered to his touch, as she always did. “You must never come to Genoa,” she said softly, “Calvino would know with one glance and have me imprisoned in a convent. But our life as it was must be over, Let this be our goodbye, our last goodbye, so we can put this behind us. I love you, I love you too much for my own safety.”

She was surprised that he waited to have her, insisting that she eat. They kept looking at each other, deep looks of longing, knowing their time must be over soon. The futility of it even extended to their love making, they were fierce, passionate, desperate, and could not seem to get enough of each other. Only the knocking at the door broke them apart.

Carmilla, faithful Carmilla, came into the room. “The baby is coming, you are to go to the convent. Lucrezia asks for you both.

They dressed, then ran hand in hand to San Sisto. Lucrezia was crying, afraid. Constanzia sat next to Vanozza. “It will be over soon, dear, and you will have a beautiful baby and it will all have been worth it. Remember, in six months it will be my turn, so you do not suffer this alone. 

At last, with one desperate push, Giovanni Borgia made his entry into the world. The midwife and her assistant shooed them out of the room, then cleaned up both mother and child. When they came back into the room, Lucrezia was nursing, a triumphant look on her face.

The Pope said a prayer of gratitude and Constanzia remembered something similar when both Lucrezia and Gioffre were born. The love, the gratitude, the unity of the family. This little bundle was the first grandchild, and she wondered how many would follow. Perhaps she should summon her mother to Genoa, if she would consent to the journey. Both her parents had been pleased at her marriage to Calvino. He may not be royalty, but the Pallavicinis were among the leading families and very influential. 

Cesare lead her from Lucrezia’s apartments, and back to her room. He undid her dress, and removed her clothes, stripping off his before he lay down next to her. “I am so tired I feel like I have given birth,” he moaned.

This made her laugh, “Cesare, you will never know the pain of childbirth or how it feels. You men are such babies, always wanting attention. Oh, to be the son of an Italian mother!”

“If such is the case, ‘mama’, your boy needs attention now.” Cesare buried his face in her neck, inhaling her amber perfume.

“The penalty of being slow, my dear, or being faced with Constanzia Pallavicini, is having to settle for me.” Juan offered Sancia his arm, noting with amusement the pout on her pretty face. Vanozza had taken Gioffre to bed, and he knew his sister in law had been counting on Cesare’s attentions, but she had not taken Constanzia into account. Though they had tried to keep their affair a secret, it had not been hard for him to find out his brother and his beautiful sister in law had been having sexual congress. It came as no surprise to him that Cesare was back in Constanzia’s bed—Sancia was beautiful, but as there was only one Lucrezia, there was only one Constanzia. 

“I am yours then, at least for tonight,” Sancia gave him an insouciant smile, tossing her heavy dark hair, “But really, Juan, in the name of friendliness, you might have warned me what to expect.”

“Now why would I do that?” Juan laughed, “Watching the look on your face has been highly amusing.” Sancia started to pull away, but he held her tightly. “Besides, Cesare will be wearing those cardinal skirts for quite a while, I’m the commander of the armies of the Vatican, after all, and the Duke of Gandia—I should be quite the prize, yes?” He clasped her closer and took her to his rooms.


	14. Journeys and Open Doors

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Constanzia has returned to Genoa, and Cesare is longing for her. Lucrezia is becoming more open about what she is starting to feel for her brother, but he is hesitant to act on his own. He is still lovers with Sancia, still longing to command the army, and is resentful of the fact that Galvino will claim his child for his own. The Pope at last has decided to act on Savanarola and his heresy and has ordered Cesare to arrest him bring him to Rome. When he says goodbye to Lucrezia she is frustrated because though she knows how he feels, he will not act on those feelings, telling her instead it might be a good idea for her to think about getting married, only this time to a husband she will accept

Little Giovanni had been baptized, Lucrezia had been churched, and had moved into a luxurious suite of rooms in the Vatican, a gift of the Pope. The sisters of the Convent of San Sisto had been generously remunerated and if Lucrezia ever needed a retreat, she would find welcome there. It was hard for anyone not to love Lucrezia anyway, Cesare thought.

She was rocking her infant in the lovely cradle that Constanzia had given her, singing him softly to sleep. He’d heard that same lullaby sung by his mother to her, Juan and Gioffre and now Lucrezia was singing it to little Giovanni.

Why had the Pope named the infant “Giovanni”? Out of all the names he could have chosen, that seemed the least likely; unless he believed Giovanni Sforza was the most likely father of the child. Perhaps it had been used at a sop to encourage him to accept the offer to keep Lucrezia’s dowry and agree to the charge of impotence in order to have the marriage annulled and him safely out of the way.

Cesare smiled at the thought of the proud duke agreeing to impotence to further the annulment of his marriage. After all, he should have known better than to cross the Borgias. He had not kept his word, he had refused to put his army at the service of the Pope and his efforts to spy for the French had been so clumsy as to be laughable. Cesare would never understand why Lucrezia had advised her husband to flee, but perhaps he had not been so offensive as might have been thought. She had merely been a bride in a less than satisfactory marriage, a situation many women found themselves in. That she had been so soft hearted towards her husband, made Cesare want to laugh.

Lucrezia came to him, a finger on her lips. “He’s asleep, finally. He’s a good baby but he does not like to settle sometimes.” She took his hand and led him to her sitting room. They sat down on a small sofa, and she cuddled against him. “I am so tired,” she sighed, “And so sore--were your mistresses this tired when they had their babies?”

He wished she hadn’t mentioned this, but there was no question he loved his bastard children. A Borgia trait, no doubt, it caused him great distress that Calvino would be claiming his son, being there when he (for he had no doubt this was a boy) was born. Perhaps I should kill him, he thought, not for the first time, it is not right that another man should be able to claim my child. He put the thought of out of his mind, for now, Constanzia would not forgive him if he killed her husband. At least, not yet.

He put his arm around Lucrezia’s slender shoulders, “Yes, I am afraid so, my love, but some day you will be better, you’ll see.”

“Good lord, brother, I hope so, it is painful merely to sit; I had thought I would be better by now.”

“You will get better. Giovanni will sleep more, you will nurse less, your breasts will cease to be sore, and your little cunny will find itself longing for someone to make it feel loved.”

She laughed, “Not too soon, I hope, for I know as soon as I am strong enough, Father will start searching for a husband for me. I am not ready for that, I don’t want to be a Borgia marriage pawn, again. I want someone of my own choosing next time.”

“What makes you think you will be able to choose?” he teased, and saw the look on her face. Had he seen that look before? He was not so sure, he had never seen the look of desire on his sister’s face directed towards him. His hazel eyes stared into her blue ones, and she reached out her hand and drew his face to hers, her lips parting, ready to seek out his.

“No, sis,” he said, “We mustn’t.”

“Are you afraid, Cesare? I’ve seen the looks you give me. When Constanzia was here those looks were only for her, but she’s gone. Or has Sancia captured your heart so thoroughly that you have no room for me.”

He took her hand in his, “Never. Do I desire her, yes? But it’s only a fleeting pleasure, besides, she’s as eager for Juan as she is for me. Sometimes I think I will never understand women.”

Lucrezia brushed her cheek against his hand. “And now you know the terribly wicked desires of your sister. I don’t know what came over me, but were it not for the spector of incest hanging over our heads, you might not be safe.”

Cesare kissed her lips, his kiss hungrier than he had intended. “I used to wonder what it would be like to have both you and Constanzia in my bed, my sweet angel and my golden djinayah. Would you tempt me into yet another sin, sister?”

“Perhaps,” she smiled sweetly, “But your sweet angel is tired and she must lie down, so for now you are safe from temptation.”

 

There had been good weather for her journey home. Constanzia found herself relishing the long hours in the saddle, not even utilizing the litter that Calvino had provided for her in case she became tired. The sunshine and the fresh air invigorated her, and Rafaello had proved to be the most excellent traveling companion. He had spent hours drawing and sketching while in Rome, never needing to be entertained. Now he was entertaining her with stories about the mischief he and Calvino would get into when they were younger. She’d also noted the looks some of the maids would give him under their lowered lashes.

She turned around, looking again for the figure she thought she had spotted. With his red hair and pale eyes, Micheletto was hard to miss. Cesare must have sent him to act as watch dog on her journey, but it was not necessary. Cesare needed Micheletto, she didn’t, she was going to take care of this now.

“Rafaello, I am riding back towards the end of the train. I have spotted someone I wish to speak to. Don’t halt, it’s not necessary, I’ll be back shortly.”

“As you wish, my lady,” he said, clearly puzzled, but he did as she ordered. He was very good that way. She turned her horse and rode back through her escort until she found him among the soldiers.

“Micheletto, a word if you please?” she asked, and he pulled his horse up next to hers saying, “My Lady?”

“Ride with me towards the front of our train, I have something to tell you.” He nodded his head; Micheletto was uncouth, but polite. She had tried without success to hate him, and had settled on being grateful he was so loyal to Cesare.

“Micheletto, I know why you are here, and tell Cesare I thank him, but I am sending you back to Rome. I am well taken care of, and Cesare has more need of you. Please tell him that everything is all right, and I appreciate his loaning you to me, but it is not necessary. I will worry too much about him if you are not there to take care of him. And if he threatens to beat you for being derelict in your duty, remind that if he even considers it, he will face my wrath. When we stop for the noon meal, pack your saddle bags with food, and fill some skins with wine and water and then turn back towards Rome. And tell Cesare I miss him every day and send him my love.”

“He will not be happy lady,” Micheletto warned her and she answered, “I know, I know. Who knows better than I? But I will feel better if you are by his side, I truly do not need you and his need is the greater.”

He bowed, knowing that if she was determined that this is how it should be, it would do no good to argue with her. It was too bad that his master could not marry her, especially now that the baby was on the way. They suited each other admirably, and she would have made him a good wife, but it was not to be. 

He galloped back to Rome, stopping only to rest himself and his horse. As predicted, when Cesare heard that she had sent Micheletto back to him, he lost his temper. Then he realized that Constanzia considered herself his keeper. Not only was she protective of him, she was also stronger willed than he gave her credit for. Though she might demur to him, if she had decided upon a certain path that was what she would follow and hang his anger if he did not approve. He had thought her meek and mild mannered, but he had discovered that his cousin had a will of her own.

 

He sat with Lucrezia in the garden, the baby laid on a blanket so he could kick and move his little arms and legs about. Lucrezia refused to have him swaddled and he had more freedom of movement than an infant of the aristocracy might.

“Do you miss her so much, Constanzia I mean. Even though she’s gone I can feel her presence here in all the places we liked to walk and sit. I am sure she is happy, but I cannot help but wish that she had not gone to Genoa.”

Cesare was silent for a moment, “I miss her, sis, dreadfully. I miss her in my bed and now another man will be raising our son, my son, as his own. This is not right.”

“You should go see her,” Lucrezia said, though it pained her to say it, “She will be glad to see you. Just think, she must be homesick, I know I would be. Though she and Calvino are very fond of each other, that is not a substitute for family.”

“But I can’t, my love, not until the baby is born and only then can I go to Genoa to offer the Pope’s congratulations. Not for anything would I have him even think this child is not his, I would not do that to Constanzia.”

Lucrezia slipped her hand into his, “I am sorry for you both, but it was for the best, I think.” She would never let him know, but she was happy to have her brother to herself. The two people she loved best were the two people who could break her heart. She knew how deeply Cesare loved their cousin, and it was impossible to not love Constanzia. Their love had made them blissfully happy, but each day brought them great risk. Her heart ached for her brother’s loss, but now it was opening a door, a far more dangerous door, for her.

 

A week later and nothing seemed resolved for her. Cesare came into her room, dressed in his cardinal robes. He put his arm around her waist and kissed her cheek, but he seemed distant as if his mind were not on her, or his kiss.

She put her hand on his cheek, stroking it. “What is it, brother, what’s wrong?”

“I must go to Florence, Father told me it is time that we put an end to the Preacher of Florence. I am to bring him back here so he can face the heresy charges Father will bring against him. It’s time we stopped him, Florence has become a sad shadow of what she once was.”

“Is that not a good thing, then? Has Savonarola brought nothing but turmoil? Surely this will be for the good of Florence.”

“Yes, it will, Father should have done this long ago. I will be glad to have this over and done with. There’s more important matters I would give my attention to.”

Like Sancia, guessed Lucrezia, like taking command of the army, like your child waiting to born in Genoa that you cannot claim. Sometimes, Cesare, it seems you think of everyone but me. I know you love me, but at times I feel like I am of little consequence to you.

She put her arms around his waist, and he kissed the top of her hair. “I wish this task were less urgent, I could take my time. We must find a way to discredit him, then arrest him and bring him back here. Heretics must be dealt with swiftly, otherwise their poison spreads. We never should have waited so long.”

Lucrezia slipped out of his arms. “Is that all you are thinking about?” she cried, “What about me? Aren’t I important to you?”

“Yes, but I have one sin of incest hanging over my head, I will not draw you into another. Do I think of you? Yes, all the time, but there is another, too, and she is pregnant with my child in Genoa. It might not be such a bad thing for you to marry again, sis, only this time I will help make sure he is of your liking.”

She wanted to throw something at him as he left the room. Perhaps he was right, he and Constanzia had been fortunate to not be discovered. And if marriage was the answer for her, this time she would fight for a husband of her own choosing.


	15. The Bonfires

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cesare goes to Florence arrest Savanarola and bring him back to Rome. When he returns Sancia informs him that Juan has disappeared and he wonders what has happened

I am taking poetic license again, and borrowing from “The Borgias” and having Savonarola burned at the stake in Rome, as opposed to Florence where it really took place. Also, two other friars were executed with him, and I am leaving that out for the sake of the story

The Piagnoni were marching again. Cesare could hear the Savonarola’s “angels” singing in their boys’ soprano voices yet another hymn of praise. Praise of the monk, no doubt. His followers had driven the Medicis out of Florence, yet this newly established republic seemed to be doing no one any good.

Machiavelli came and stood next to him as they watched the procession march down the street. “So, I take it you’re here to do something about this. The Pope did not take kindly to Florence’s not joining his Holy League.”

“Yes, I am authorized to use any means necessary to bring this monk to Rome to face trial. The Holy Father seems to think that if he can be discredited, that will bring about the end of his influence. And I will use whatever means I can to put an end to this. He has been far too much trouble.” He held out his glass for the patient servant to refill with Machiavelli’s excellent wine.

“Well, that will certainly be welcome. Perhaps life will slowly return to normal here. I know Piero De Medici is anxious to return and take back his city—and control of his banks. Tell me, have you any idea what means you have in store for our preacher?”

“I thought a trial by fire might do it. I’m counting on his vanity to assure himself that he will pass through the flames unscathed. He’s ignited enough fires here, let him make one for himself.”

“I think if you can show him for the charade that he is, then I am sure Florence will be grateful.” Machiavelli paused, waiting for an answer. Something was clearly bothering his young friend, his cousin’s marriage perhaps? He had never stated it openly, but Machiavelli suspected that his feelings for his cousin went beyond that of family. “And how is your cousin?” he ventured carefully, “I have some books she may be interested in.”

“My cousin, my friend, is married to Calvino Pallavicini de Genoa and pregnant with my child.” He drained his glass and held it out for the servant to refill.  
“Well, that is certainly inconvenient. One of your father’s strategic marriages, I take it?”

“Yes, most definitely a marriage of convenience. I do not intend that my child be raised by someone else, I suspect Calvino Pallavicini may meet with some sort of inconvenient accident, or perhaps, if God is good, will contract an illness shortly after the birth. And then I will bring my cousin back home to Rome where she belongs.”

 

Cesare had been right about one thing, Savonarola’s pride was so great that he jumped at the chance to prove himself in the trial by fire. And, as he had expected, Savonarola was not the chosen one of God that he claimed, he emerged from the ordeal badly burned, but no so much that he could not be transported to Rome. And, best of all, when the people saw that their beloved preacher did not have the divine protection that he claimed, they began to turn from him, the first step in Florence returning back to the new normal that they faced.

“He was a fool, Micheletto,” Cesare said as they watched him being loaded onto a cart, “He became greedy, he wanted it all. Had he chosen to be a simple preacher instead of designating himself the liberator of Florence, no one would even have cared. He forgot the cardinal rule, do not defy Rome. He could have saved himself, now he’s facing the stake.” He shook his head, “We must return and see this finished.”

He left Micheletto in charge of seeing the friar back to Rome, and galloped ahead to speak with his father. All in all it was a nasty business. Piero de Medici was a weakling who deserved whatever happened to him, so it didn’t bother him that he was driven from Florence. Neither did the re-establishment of the Florentine Republic matter much, what did concern him was the state of the banks. The Medicis were the leading banking families and much of the wealth of the Romagna passed through their hands. Medici was seeking refuge in Rome, so he hoped his father would make him pay dearly for it.

And he was concerned for Lucrezia, he loved his sister dearly, but what she wanted from him was something he would not and could not give. She was wrong when she said she was not important to him, she was his world. It had not been so long since she had her child, her world had been turned upside down, he would have to make her see that he was not the key to her happiness.

What if you’re wrong, a voice told him, maybe she sees you as her savior, maybe you feel more than you admit. But that was wrong, out of all the women he would ever have, Constanzia was the one he would love the most. Maybe their love was fated to fail, but he would not let go so easily. He wanted his child here, in Rome, not Genoa. He wanted Constanzia back in his arms.

He knew what people said about him. He was known for the beauty of his person, his beautiful clothes, and the beauty of his women. So what? What they did not know was that the love of his life was the most beautiful of all, her doe like dark eyes, the river of brown hair that fell past her hips, and the sweetness of her person that was ever a source of delight. He had let her go too easily, something must be done about that.

The first thing he did when he arrived in Rome was to apprise the Holy Father of the situation. The send off that Florence had given to its preacher had been less than friendly. No praise, no words of encouragement for the trials he was about to face, instead he was met with stones and refuse thrown by an angry crowd. The trial by fire had shown most Florentines that their preacher had been nothing more than yet another fanatic. His urchins who had prowled the streets, demanding the “vanities” of its residents had gone into hiding. Unless they showed signs of repentance they would were no longer welcome, even in their own families.

Pope Alexander shook his head. “A man of God, yet full of so much hatred, perhaps most of all for himself. There is no reasoning with fanatics, my son, you must get rid of them as soon as you can. Piero de Medici had the chance, yet he chose to do nothing. Now he will never be able to return to Florence. He’ll find no welcome in Rome, either, if he expects protection from me he will be disappointed. And he will have to answer for the state of the Florentine banks, where we had a not inconsiderable amount of money—which I expect to have returned to me.”

Cesare did not disagree. Machiavelli had warned him, though not directly. He wondered how the Florentine Republic would fare now that the two greatest thorns in its sides were gone. He took his leave of the Holy Father and went to his rooms. He tore off his cardinal robes and stretched out on the bed, weary from the hours he had spent in the saddle.

He was asleep, or was he, when he began to dream of two petal soft lips caressing his, silky hands sliding themselves over his chest, the fingertips playfully squeezing his nipples. “No, Lucrezia, you must not,” he murmured, then opened his eyes.

“Well, do I have yet another rival for your attentions? But Cesare, your sister of all people.” Sancia lay next to him on his bed, her translucent white peignoir slipping off her shoulders, her red lips curled into a smile.

He turned her on her back, his mouth finding hers. Of all his lovers, Sancia was his second favorite. Perhaps his deep emotional bond with Constanzia made her his favorite, but he loved the earthy enthusiasm of Gioffre’s wife. 

He pulled off her robe, putting his mouth on one erect breast, then the other. He moved his mouth up to find hers, kissing her deeply and greedily before looking at her, saying, “What, is my brother Juan not here to keep you from feeling unloved?  
”  
“I have not seen Juan since you left for Florence,” she said gravely, “No one has. Did the Holy Father not speak of it to you?”

“No,” he answered, “Though that comes as a surprise. Perhaps the matter of Florence, the Medicis, and Savonarola drove it from him mind.”

“Surely he’s alive, isn’t he? Don’t you think so? It just seems so strange. The Papal Army is here, so he cannot be out on maneuvers. What could have happened to him?”

“Well,” he kissed her, and when she did not at first respond, he smiled and kissed her again, “He could be at his favorite brothel—any one of them. He could have found someone new to bed, he is fickle, my brother. I feel sorry for his faithful wife. Do not worry, Sancia, as soon as the matter of Savonarola is taken care of, I will search for my brother. But first I must try to obtain a confession from the preacher so that we can put him to the flames and have all taken care of. If you hear anything, then give a message to one of my servants. And now, my love, do we wish to continue talking or shall we indulge in more pleasurable pursuits.”

 

If the Friar was slow to cooperate, in the end it did not matter for Cesare obtained what he needed. He did not enjoy burning a man at the stake, but sometimes it was necessary as an act of justice or an example. As he told Machiavelli, he did not feel sorry for Savonarola. The man had torn Florence apart, he preached a particularly vicious version of Catholicism, and he was was ruthless to those who would not prescribe to his dictates. He had succeeded in driving Piero de Medici out, and had convinced the Florentines to burn their treasures. The Florentine Republic would take a while to build itself, but Florence would somehow manage.

He faced a bigger problem, telling His Holiness what had happened to his brother. He might have been walking home very drunk one night, and tumbled into the river. No body had turned up, if he were dead and his body in the Tiber, it might take a while for the river to yield it. 

Juan might have found a new lover, a pretty married woman who was bored by her husband and had taken a fancy to the handsome Ganfolonier. All it would take would be for a jealous husband to find out and run a sword through him, pope’s son or not.

What kind of trouble have you made for me now, brother? Cesare thought, as if I don’t have enough on my mind as it is. If it were not for the fact that I know that you are fond of your life and would not commit the sin of suicide, I would swear you have done this just to cause me grief. There is enough rumor going round saying that I covet the command of the Papal Armies, which I do, but I would not stoop to killing you to obtain it. I am more than ready to shed my cardinal’s skirts, but this is not the way I would do it. And now I have to tell father that his favorite son is missing and I do not know if he is alive.

I’ll wait until Savonarola is taken care of. I’ll send Micheletto out to try to hunt him down, along with a member of the Vatican Guard. No matter the outcome, I will no longer be a cardinal. I have waited too long to have what I want. If Juan is truly gone, then the command of the armies will be mine. I never chose to be a cleric, Father chose it for me, now I will choose for myself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It is the privilege of an author to frustrate his/her readers


	16. Finishing an Unfinished Business

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lucrezia has found out that the Pope intends for her to wed again. She is determined to choose this time, and will not be settled again with a man like Giovanni Sforza.
> 
> Juan is still missing, and Cesare and Cardinal Sforza decide to confront the inevitable. Juan's horse has been found with its stirrup cut, but no sign of his owner. Cesare and Sforza search the morgues and Juan's body turns up--stabbed and with his throat cut.
> 
> At last Cesare is going to shed his cardinal's robes and take command of the army which he has always wanted to do. First, however, he decides to absent himself from Rome for a while--suspicion of Juan's death lies on his shoulders, though he has sworn to his father that he was not responsible.
> 
> There is another thing he must do: he intends to get Calvino Pallavicini out of the way and bring Constanzia and his son back to Rome. Through the help of Micheletto he hopes to get him out of the way, without making his involvement too obvious. He is hoping that Rafaello will be pleased at the prospect of being the first son, and in charge of the family fortune

Lucrezia was more dismayed than surprised when the Pope announced he would soon be seeking suitors for her again. She did not understand his eagerness, it had cost thirty one thousand ducats to annul her marriage to Giovanni Sforza; for her to marry again would mean coming up with yet another dowry, and she was not sure if the Vatican treasury had the funds.

Little Giovanni was growing and she now shared his nursing with a wet nurse, though she preferred to feed him at her own breast. Her baby might help complicate any possible marriage arrangement. A bastard son might be acceptable if he was of noble blood, but she was not sure who Giovanni’s father was. She preferred that her ex husband have no claim on him, she would rather claim that little Giovanni was the son of a stable boy, than the Duke of Pesaro. Still, he bore the name of her ex-husband, what had possessed her father to do that?

The marital contract would take a while to negotiate and complete. Whoever she married would have to understand that Giovanni was her son, and she would not be separated from him. If she and her husband must live in the Vatican, so be it. Giovanni came above all else.

And she would not marry another man like Giovanni Sforza, no matter how her father pressed. She might have to choose, but the choice would be hers to make, and would be final.

If she could choose someone she liked, she was not so sure she would truly mind getting married again. The one true love of her life was her brother, but Cesare always seemed to pull back from her. He would draw tantalizingly close, then push her gently away. He loved her, she knew he loved her, but he would seek out Sancia, or any other woman but her. She wanted to be the one who consoled him for the loss of his Constanzia, but he would shake his head saying, “No, sis, we cannot.” Was that how it would stand with him forever?

 

No one had yet to hear of Juan and his fate. Cesare was uncomfortably aware of the rumors that were circulating. “He had coveted command of the Vatican armies,” “he and Juan were rivals for Sancia’s affections.” The latter was partially true, but now he had begun to grow tired of his youngest brother’s wife, and if Juan desired her, he was more than welcome to her. If he were alive, that is.

Which Cesare suspected he was not. He questioned his brother’s servants, but they were loyal and close mouthed to a man, which he did not understand. If he had fallen victim to a jealous husband, his brother’s body might now be floating in the Tiber. Perhaps it had been discarded in an alley, falling victim to vermin like rats, or stray cats or dogs. That would not be a desirable end for the son of the Pope, so Cesare decided it was time to talk to his father, however unpleasant the prospect. He did not relish telling his father that his second son quite possibly was dead.

He made his way, albeit reluctantly, to the audience room. Fortunately, it was mostly empty, save for a few cardinals, and the vice chancellor, Ascanio Sforza. Cesare wondered how much the canny Sforza knew. There was not much that the wily cardinal did not know about what went on within the Vatican walls. Perhaps he should have consulted with the vice chancellor first, but it was too late now.

“Leave us,” he told cardinals, “Sforza you may stay.” The remaining cardinals bowed and left. He sometimes surprised himself with the authority he had acquired since he first took the cloth. The fifteen year old Bishop of Valencia had certainly grown and matured, he thought wryly, or was he obeyed simply because of the Holy Father’s will?

“Holy Father,” he said, then knelt and kissed the gold ring that was held out to him. “It is time to discuss the matter of my brother.”

“I have been wishing to bring up the same matter, Holy Father,” said Sforza, “It is all too obvious that something has befallen him. I fear we will not have a happy outcome. Something has clearly happened to the Gonfalonier. I believe it is time we start searching the morgues for his body—it may already have been recovered.”

The Gonfalonier would have been better off remaining in Spain with this wife he claims to love so much, thought Cesare. His Spanish bride, Maria de Luna, was beautiful, but that did not stop Juan from continuing his dalliances in Rome. Perhaps he should have brought her to Rome, instead of leaving her in Spain. Better still, the Gonfalonier should have returned to Spain after his visit. Too late for that now, thought Cesare, his ways have caught up to him.

He could see the pain in his father’s face, but it could not be helped. As soon as his brother’s body was recovered, he was going to shed his cardinal’s robes, even if it meant defying his father. Someone would have to assume command of the Papal Army, and he was the best and most logical choice. There would only be the Great God Rumor, to quiet.  
“Leave us,” the pope told Sforza, who bowed and left the room. He turned to Cesare and asked him, “Did you have anything to do with this?”

“I swear, by all that is holy, I did not. I have heard the rumors, as have you. Yes, we did not get along; yes, we were rivals for the affections of our brother’s wife, but she did not discourage it. Yes, I feel like I am the better candidate for command of the armies, but I would not commit fratricide to obtain it. You know as well as I that Juan is his own worst enemy.”

“So, Cardinal, what do you think?”

Cesare told him the truth as he knew it. “He probably met his death by misadventure, either of his own doing, or another’s. Perhaps he was caught by a jealous lover or husband, or he was intoxicated and fell into the Tiber and drowned. This is going to dog me, Holy Father. I am already suspected of his death, and I had nothing to do with it! You should have sent him back to Spain to his wife. Now, no matter what the outcome, the gossip will not be stopped, and I will be said to be the villain. The mob always prefers speculation to the truth.” 

“And it is true then, that both you and Juan were Sancia’s lovers? What possessed you? Now must we expect that our youngest son is the author of his brother’s demise?” Rodrigo’s black eyes snapped.

Cesare chose his words carefully, “Perhaps, Holy Father, but I would not want to think Gioffre capable of it. Maybe you should have been quicker to find out what you could about Sancia’s character, before you married her to someone so young and tender as my brother.”

The look the Pope gave him was not one of indulgence, but Cesare had ceased to be afraid of his father for a long time now. If I had thought it would do any good, I would have asked you to let me make Constanzia my mistress he thought, then Sancia would not had the allure that she did. Had you sent Juan back to Valencia to be with his wife and children, he would not have found Sancia such a temptation. Had you not married a twelve year old boy to a lusty sixteen year old girl, perhaps your son would be alive. Cesare stood and looked at his father, wondering how much he should say.

“Juan’s horse was found, with the stirrup cut, but no there was no trace of our brother. We will not know what happened to him until we find his body. As for Gioffre, he is a Borgia, what are we not capable of? Either way, once we find his body, I will no longer be a cardinal. There has been enough talk since I was made one, and now with this hanging over my head, it is not prudent for me to remain so any longer. It may take a papal bull for my innocence to be proclaimed, but I fear this will always hang over my head. And, in the meantime, you may wish to talk to Gioffre about curbing the activities of his wife.” He bowed and left the room.

 

Part of the puzzle was solved the next day, except for the “who”. Juan’s body was found in the Tiber, his clothes and the thirty ducats in his purse intact. When his body was examined, it was found that he had been stabbed nine times and his throat slit. Whoever was responsible had not just killed him, they had “over” killed him, said the mortician, who shook his head at the brutality of the murder of one so young.

Cesare and Sforza left the morgue. “It would be best,” said the cardinal, “for me to be the one to tell the Holy Father what has happened.” He held up his hand as Cesare started to object. “Normally, it would be for you to tell him, but under the circumstances it would not be wise. It would also be advisable for you to leave Rome immediately after the funeral. Your father will be much aggrieved to learn the manner of his son’s death. I am not so sure that he does not think you responsible, or at least the instigator, of this crime.”

“For once, Sforza, I am in agreement with you. I will tell Lucrezia and Mother. Believe me when I tell you I did not do this, but I am sure that there are several who could. It would be no small thing for me to leave the Council of Cardinals, but I will, even if it means defying my father. I suspect my father will be in deep mourning for longer than he should, Juan was always his favorite, though I do not know why. I worry only for Mother and Lucrezia, this will be hard on them.”

“Why don’t you go to Genoa?” suggested Sforza, “Your cousin’s baby is due to be christened and I am sure Constanzia will be glad to see you.”

“Yes,” he replied slowly, “I have not seen her since she came to Rome for Giovanni’s birth. I miss her, and Genoa would be a good place to retreat.”

 

He told Lucrezia and his mother together what had befallen Juan. Vanozza ran from the room, sobbing. She had held a banquet that night in honor in his honor, and all of the family had attended. Now what should have been a happy memory had turned to one of sadness and horror.

Lucrezia took her brother’s hand and pulled him down on the settee next to her. She lay her golden head on his shoulder, and held his hand tightly. “Poor brother,” she said, “Now you will get your wish, but not in the way you supposed. I believe you did not kill Juan, but any of us could have desired it. If he’d had an ounce of humility in his character, he may have been more bearable, but I was always happier when he was away. He should have stayed in Spain.”

“Yes, sis, I agree, he should have. Our brother tends to think he could do whatever he wants with impunity. Discretion was never a part of his character. And now, because of this, I must leave Rome after the funeral and stay away for a while.”

She rose up, looked at him, “Where would you go?”

“Genoa. Constanzia’s son is due to be christened, I was going to perform it, but now I will be the godfather instead. On my return home I will stop and visit Machiavelli and see how Florence is faring. Perhaps I will go further north and visit Forli, or maybe I will save that for another time. At last I am free to manage Rome’s affairs in the way I want. Juan was not a competent military commander, but Father never would listen to me. Now I have a chance to make things right.

Micheletto was helping Cesare dress, something that had become routine. For Micheletto, he only felt secure of Cesare’s safety when he was able to see to it personally. If Cesare was amused or annoyed by this, he would never let Micheletto know. Loyalty was a commodity he valued highly and Micheletto was loyalty personified.

“Constanzia’s baby is now almost two months old and we will be attending his baptism in Genoa. The baptism should be performed by the Pope, but Constanzia does not yet wish to travel.” He paused for a moment, “Constanzia and I have a son!” There was a look of pride on his face.

“It is good for a man to have a son, master,” he replied, “I am sure you are very proud.”

“Well, then, Micheletto, I have a task for you. I want you to travel to Florence and seek out an apothecary. You will obtain from him a poison, one that will act fairly quickly, and will not cause too much obvious pain and will mimic the symptoms of an illness. You will have one of his servants put it in Calvino’s wine, and then we will let things take its course. We will negotiate terms for Constanzia’s widowhood settlement, and leave young Raphaello Pallavicini a very happy man. The younger brother will get to take the place of the elder, and he will no longer be a penniless second son.”

“And we will bring back the Lady Constanzia to Rome?”

“Yes, Micheletto, we will bring Constanzia, and my son, back to Rome. I have decided that I do not want Calvino Pallavicini raising him. We must be careful, his death must look like he contracted a deadly illness. At all costs, we must not arouse suspicions, especially Constanzia’s. I never should have let her get married, or leave Rome, so now I am paying for my mistakes. We must take care lest Constanzia lays blame on me for her husband’s death. She will see it is for the best, but all the same, be very careful what you choose, and spare no expense.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jury is still out as to whether or not Cesare murdered Juan. I think Cesare may be guilty, but then again, maybe not


	17. The Road to Rome

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Juan has died and Pope Alexander has gone into mourning. Cesare has shed his Cardinal's skirts and has plans for when his father finally hands control of the Vatican's army over to him. In the mean time, Constanzia's baby is to be baptized and Cesare travels to Rome to be godfather--and to kill Calvino.

The Pope was but a ghost of himself. He had stood silently, tears running down his cheeks while Ascanio Sforza performed the funeral rites. It had barely registered with him when Cesare told him he was leaving the College of Cardinals—he may as well have said nothing at all. He wondered if his father even knew what he had told hm.  
The blessing he begged for when he left had been merely perfunctory, the sign of the cross made absently. Pope Alexander had retreated so completely within himself that Cesare wondered if he could ever emerge. He must eventually, Cesare thought, there was too much that he meant to do, and when command of the army came to him,  
He had not looked back when he rode out to meet Micheletto, could not bear to see the shrunken figure that had become his father. Cesare shook his head, Juan had been the favored son, but he had not deserved it. He was not worthy of the deep mourning that Roderigo Borgia had plunged himself into. Juan had conducted himself like a Spanish grandee. He enjoyed his position, but put very little effort into learning the trade of soldier. Juan, in short, prided himself on looking like a soldier, without putting the effort into gaining the knowledge it took to be one.  
“Did I ever have any affection for him, once I learned his true nature, that is?” Cesare had tried for too long to gain his father’s favor, but Juan did not have to try. Perhaps now, his father would see him as he truly was—or would he see him only as the son who failed in his duty to be the man of the cloth he had been expected to be?  
Too late for that now, Father, he thought, I’ve become my own man at last. And with that realization, he discovered it was a fine day for riding, and he felt as if a burden had been slipped from his shoulders. Micheletto should meet up with him soon, and with Pallavicini gotten out of the way, he would remove Constanzia and their son back to Rome, where they should have stayed in the first place. 

Micheletto was waiting for him by the roadside, half a day’s ride from Genoa. Cesare rode up to him and said, “How did your errand go in Florence?”  


Micheletto drew two vials from his pocket. “It cost fifty ducats, but if it works as the apothecary said, it will be well worth it.” He held up one bottle, “This will resemble the appear-ance of an illness that the ships bring in from Genoa. There is nausea and cramping, accompanied by a fever and overall weakness. The longest any have been known to survive is three days. You can administer opium,” here he held up the other vial, “and it will ease the symptoms while the poison is working in the body. You can present it to them and say you have heard of this illness and that opium is known to provide relief. When do you wish me to have it given to him?”  
Cesare took the vial of opium from his hand and slipped it into his doublet. “The day af-ter the christening. The feasting should be over by then and it might appear that there was some-thing in the food that made him ill. A bad meat or fish would be likely. Just make sure you leave no witnesses, no one to associate you with this.” Cesare looked at the bottle of opium, already picturing himself providing it to Constanzia or the doctor. Simple.  
“I never leave traces, your Eminence,” Micheletto said.  
“I am Eminence no longer, just ‘my lord’. I have relieved myself of the burden of being cardinal for good. Now we can begin our real work, Micheletto, we will see the armies of Rome furnished with cannon, with the soldiers she needs, stocked and well trained. Rome will be vul-nerable no longer, once her armies are in my hands. The Vatican will find the funds that we need, both for defense and expansion. My brother was incompetent, I am not. My hands are no longer tied, so now I can act as I will.”  
“Are you sure, my lord, that your father will give the armies to you? If there is suspicion hanging over your head…”  
Cesare dismissed his concerns with a gesture of his hand. “There is no one else, he will have to give it to me. Until then, I will do what I can and without the interference of my brother. Father is unaware of anything but his own grief, in time, when Rome is in need of her armies, I will take command. In the meantime, let us take care of the other matter. We will eliminate Cal-vino Pallavicini, and bring my cousin and our child back to Rome.”

The reception rooms of the Pallavicini were bright and sunny. The statuary and decora-tions reflected the mercantile roots of the house of Pallavicini that had made its fortune. There were three fine paintings, classical in nature, of men in ships plying the seas.  
Cesare was greeted warmly by Calvino Pallavicini. “Cousin, I am glad to see that you have come, Constanzia was hoping you would be little Marco’s grandfather.” He kissed Cesare warmly on both cheeks, “Come you must greet your cousin.”  
Cesare held out his arms for Constanzia. She had not yet lost all the baby weight, and her curves were sweetly rounded. She looked healthy, happy, and contented. He drew her into his arms, holding her tightly, but not that it would arrange her husband’s suspicions. He kissed each of her cheeks, then her lips. My little beauty, he thought as he looked at her.  
He held her at arm’s length, a look of mock severity on his face. “Did you name him for that Venetian fraud?” he asked, trying to hide his smile, “You always did say that you believed in him.”  
“I still do,” she said, and the room burst into laughter, “You have always been jealous of the fact that I admired him. Come, I will take you to see my little Marco.” She curtsied to her husband and led him from the room to her chambers.  
Carmilla dismissed the other maids when she saw them enter the room. She swept up lit-tle Marco and handed him to Cesare. “Marco Calvino Rafaello Pallavicini, your nephew.” At a signal from Constanzia, she left the room.  
“My son,” said Cesare, looking at him with wonder in his eyes. This was not his first son, nor would it be his last, but to him the tiny bundle he held in his arms was perfection—and all Borgia. He carried the baby over to the bed and sat down, motioning Constanzia to sit next to him.  
She lay her head on his shoulder, “He’s beautiful, is he not, our little Marco? I wish Uncle were here to give him his blessing.”  
“He would not even recognize him, my love,” said Cesare sadly, “Juan has been killed and he has eyes and ears for nothing but his grief.”  
Constanzia lifted her head. “Killed? How?” When did it happen? Did you…”  
“No, my little love, I did not do it, though I am perhaps grateful to whomever did. He was found in the Tiber, with nine stab wounds and his throat slit. His money and clothes were untouched, so it was not a robbery. I suspect there was a new woman, or maybe one of long standing and he was found out by a jealous husband or lover.”  
“And so now you will sit at the head of Rome’s armies, it is time. I am sorry that Juan was murdered, but I cannot say that I am sorry he is dead. I’ve always wanted for you what you wanted for you, Cesare, and now I am glad you will have it. Uncle would give me a severe pen-ance if he heard me say that, but it’s true. The army is now in the hands of the better brother.”  
Marco started to fuss, and Cesare helped her undo the top of her dress so she could nurse him. He was proud as he watched the baby suckle vigorously, surely this would be a child that would grow to adulthood. He might have to maintain the name “Pallavicini” or perhaps he would adopt him so that he would be the “Borgia” that he should be. There would be no cleric’s cloth for this child unless he wanted it, and as many toy soldiers and horses as he could shower upon him. He only had to take care of his father.  
The Pallavicinis liked to entertain, and supper that night was a taste of what the baptismal feast would be tomorrow. Constanzia wore a blue and gold striped gown, and sapphires set in gold circled her throat. Clusters of sapphires dangled from her shell like ears, a gift, no doubt, from her doting husband.  
His loins ached as he looked at her. He could probably have just about any woman in the room that he liked, but the only one he wanted was the enchanting creature who sat beside him. Was it going to be hard to claim her from her husband? He had not wanted her to marry, had not wanted her to leave Rome, but it was his father’s will and he could not circumvent it. Once her husband was gotten out of the way he could take her back to Rome—whether she willed it or not.  
He held his son proudly in front of the baptismal fond as the priest performed the age old rite. It was only with great reluctance that he handed him to Calvino, being careful to pretend that he did it willingly.  
The baptismal celebration was a more elaborate version than the dinner held to greet him the night before. There was a larger number of guests, more dishes, and a large variety of wines from around the Mediterranean. There was a French variety that Calvin seemed to favor, while Constanzia drank a Spanish red that had been a favorite of the Pope’s. Good, he thought, drink your Spanish red and don’t touch your husband’s French, or I will have to resort to drastic measures to ensure you don’t meet his fate.  
He held his breath as it appeared that Constanzia was going to take a sip out of her hus-band’s glass. Someone called her name, it distracted her and she set it down. The page swiftly picked up the glass and refilled it, and set it by her husband’s right hand. Good, Micheletto had found his aide, it was a pity the poor boy would be dead before morning.  
Constanzia retired early from the table, she was still not wholly recovered from childbirth and needed her rest. A few women followed her, but most remained and there was dancing and music until late. A pretty girl with red hair kept appearing on his arm during one particular dance with an invitation in her eyes, but alas, this was not the night for romancing. It was best that he remain alone this night, for tomorrow he would surely be needed.

Calvino was struck ill as he rose from the breakfast table. His gentlemen were summoned to his side as he was taken to his bedchamber, and put to bed, his cries and groans painful to hear. Rafaello stood by his bedside, but he would not allow Constanzia to attend him.  
“No, my love,” he told her, “You must tend to our Marco. Later, when I am better, then you come to see me.”  
Rafaello put his arm around her and kissed her cheek. “Go,” he said softly, “My brother’s pride will not let you see him like this. Later, I will come and fetch you myself. Go, my dear sis-ter.”  
Cesare sat on her bed, holding his son. When she came into the room, he saw the tears on her face and pulled her down beside him. “You must be patient, sweet cousin, and wait for him to get better.” He handed Marco to her, watching as she held the baby close to her bosom.  
“I don’t think he’s going to get better, Cesare, I saw death in his eyes. He’s not sick, he’s been poisoned, I know it, I can feel it. Do we Borgias not know about poison, our weapon of choice?” She stood up and went and placed the baby in his cradle, then came back to him, look-ing for comfort. I thought he employed a taster, I thought nothing came to the table unless it was safe.”  
“Who would want to poison him, my little love? Does your husband have many ene-mies?”  
“Oh, always. I did not realize how complicated the shipping business is, how intense the competition. If Calvino dies,” here she gave a little sob, and Cesare waited patiently for her to go on. “Marco, the heir, is only an infant, it will take eighteen years before he is even close to being ready to assume his father’s position. Rafaello knows little about the business, but I’ve encour-aged him to learn more. It’s not right that he should be shut so completely out? Calvino listened to me, not at first, but I managed to convince him that his brother is more than an idle poet and painter. He became willing to teach Rafaello when he saw how willing his brother was to learn. And I’ve been learning, too, just in case something like this happened.” She slumped over and began to cry in earnest.  
Cesare put his arm around her and pulled her close to him. “Don’t worry my little deer,” he said, using his pet name for her, “I am here, I will take care of you and watch over you. May-be the doctors can do something for him and all is not lost.”  
But not likely, he thought with grim satisfaction. Micheletto told him this poison had no antidote, and was fatal each time. All he had to do now was wait.  
Calvino lay in his bed in agony. His stomach was cramping horribly and every muscle in his body seemed to scream in pain. He needed to rest, to sleep, if only for a while. Fatigue was making the pain worse, and he could not get the relief of sleep.  
Cesare and Constanzia came into the room. “Oh, husband,” she said, stroking his sweaty forehead, “Are you any better? Please tell me!”  
“I told you not to come in here, my love,” he said, “Are you not willing to obey me?”  
“I am a Borgia, my darling, we pay no attention when we are told to do or not do a thing,” she kissed his forehead, alarmed at how hot it was.  
“As soon as I am well, I am going to have to do something about that, aren’t I?” He made an attempt to smile, but even the muscles in his face were a source of agony.  
“I have something that may help ease your pain. I was told it was very effective in situa-tions like this.” He pulled the vial from his pocket, “A few drops of this is very effective for pain. With your doctors’ permission, I will administer some.”  
“Do as he says,” Constanzia said when the doctors objected, “If it will help the pain and help him rest, what harm will it do? Do it, give him some, Cesare, he needs relief.”  
A glass of water was brought, and he poured in a generous amount of the opium. Not enough to kill, that could come later, but enough to render his cousin’s husband unconscious. He handed the glass to Constanzia, and she helped Calvino drink it.  
He threw some up, but enough stayed down, for soon his eyes grew heavy and he fell in-to an opium sleep. Asleep, some of the tension was released from his face so that his muscles seemed to relax.  
Constanzia kissed him, and led Cesare from the room. “Is he going to die, Cesare? Don’t lie, please tell me the truth.”  
“He is going to die, my love, you can see it in his face. Did he make arrangements for this in the wedding contract?”  
“Yes, one hundred thousand ducats, plus my son will be the heir of House Pallavicini when he comes of age. He will be appointed a male guardian who will represent him until he comes of age. Why do you ask me this now?”  
“Because I am preparing for the worst, and I am watching over you and our child. One hundred thousand ducats is not enough, you need at least twice that. And I am the only guardian he will have, he is, after all, my son.” He pushed her down gently on the bed. “I will call your maids and have them ready you for bed. You also need to eat; you have not done so since break-fast. You must keep up your strength, for your own benefit and for our son’s.”  
His loins were aching, he wanted to make love to her. She seemed so beautiful in her grief and anguish, but he knew he must wait. He was afraid she wanted to stay in Genoa—thank God Rafaello could not marry his brother’s widow without dispensation from the Church. Still, there was something that he could do and in the morning he would discuss it with the younger Pallavi-cini.  
He met with Rafaello in the privacy of his brother’s office. “I have something to tell you which might help you find a glimpse of happiness from this tragedy.”  
“Go on.” There was a shrewd look in Rafaello’s eyes, which pleased Cesare.  
“What if I told you I am going to turn you from the impoverished second son to the head of the Pallavicini empire?” Cesare gave him his most sincere smile.  
“I’m interested in what you have to say, so far that is.” Rafaello responded.  
“I am taking Constanzia and Marco back to Rome. I want five hundred thousand ducats for Constanzia’s widow’s portion,” he held up his hand as Rafaello started to object, “This will be in exchange for Marco’s receiving his cash inheritance when he is twenty-one. The rest of your brother’s holdings will be given to you. It’s a bargain if you think about it—all of us will bene-fit.”  
“What if my brother would not want it?”  
“Look, Rafaello, Constanzia thinks you a capable young man. What you don’t know about the shipping business, you will learn. My young cousin has connections to the Vatican, he will be well provided for. You will have the life you never dreamed you would have. If you want to take your nephew into the business, that will be up to you. I intend that he have a relationship with you—that he knows the family of both his mother and his father. I am having an agreement drawn up that will make you a wealthy man, you will be able to find the wife of your choosing, instead of being lucky to find a bride at all. Do we have a deal?”  
“Yes, but I think you’re foolish to give up Marco’s interests, but I am sure both of his families will see him well provided for.” He stood up and extended his hand to Cesare. I can hardly refuse your offer, now can I?”  
Cesare stood up and shook his hand. Now Pallavicini, hurry up and die, he thought, I want to take Constanzia and my son back to Rome.


	18. Farewell for a Beloved

It was early in the morning when Cesare heard a woman’s scream, so loud and piercing that he could hear it through the walls of his room. At first he thought he must be dreaming, but again he heard it, and this time he knew. Constanzia. He pulled on his clothes, tore open his door and ran down the hall.

And she was there, dressed only in her shift, her arms being held by two of the guards, tears running down her face, her cries of agony pitiful to hear. “Cesare, he’s dead, he’s dead,” was all she could say.

“Let go of her,” he ordered, and lifted her up, “What were you thinking?” he demanded.

“No one was supposed to be in there, my lord. She was holding onto the body and wouldn’t let go. All she’d say was ‘he’s dead, he’s dead’, just like she’s doing now.” The guard sounded defensive, just as someone might when he knowing he was defending a wrong action.

“She’s his widow, what else would you expect her to do? You could have called for me, or her maid, or Lord Rafaello, but I suppose you didn’t think of that. Summon her maid and the lord, I am taking her to my room so the child will not disturb her. I doubt if she has had much sleep. Now go!” he said as they looked at him dumbly.

He carried her to his room, and lay her on the bed and pulled the covers up around her. She was so cold, was it from Pallavicini’s body? Had she spent the night laying on top of him in the cold air, not realizing that she was becoming chilled? There was a knock at the door and Carmilla peeked her head through the doorway. “Come in,” he said, not even bothering to look at her, “You must leave her in my room and have the wet nurse take of the baby. I suspect that Pallavicini died during the night, and she was laying on top of his body when it happened. She needs to rest without disturbance.

“Very well, my lord,” Carmilla curtsied to him, “When should she be told when she asks what has happened to her husband?”

“I will take care of that—I am the one she should hear it from. The Lord Rafaello and I will take care of the funeral arrangements. There will be a vigil and a mass, and he will be buried on Friday. We will leave for Rome the next day, so pack her things. If she has any questions, fetch me and I will answer them for her.”

He took a glass and a pitcher of water, and filled the glass part way. He poured in a little of the opium, but not too much. “If she wakes, have her drink this. It will calm her nerves and help her to rest. She will need a gown for the funeral, if she is able to attend, but I do not want her to be disturbed. See if you can find one for her, ask the ladies of the castle if they have anything. In my experience, someone should have something.”

“My Lord, what are you going to tell her about her husband?”

“Are you always this insolent, Carmilla? Maybe a little lesson in manners is in order? I will tell her only as much as will satisfy her for now. You are to say nothing of leaving Genoa, tell her only that the funeral will be Friday and she need attend only if she is up to it. Lord Rafaello must summon the priest, I will keep a watch over my cousin so that when she wakes she sees a familiar face. You may go.” She curtsied and left the room, not taking her eyes from him.

Did you have him killed, my Lord Borgia, she thought. Or was it Lord Rafaello? Either one of you could benefit from his dying! She had fallen in love with her Calvino, she was so happy, she didn’t even care that you were the father of her child, and not her husband. Lord Rafaello seems more of a gentleman than you, and certainly kinder, but this is not your business, Carmilla! My lady loves the Lord Borgia and nothing could dissuade her from that. I can only try to keep her safe from him, that’s all.

 

Cesare and Rafaello sat in Calvino’s old office, now the property of his brother. He laid a document before him, outlining each point they had discussed the following day.  
“Are you sure?” he asked Cesare, “My brother’s empire by all rights should go to his son.”

“And that would leave you nothing.” Cesare poured wine into his glass, “And surely you deserve more, Constanzia thinks so. My cousin receives five hundred thousand ducats as her widow’s portion. Her child will receive the cash portion of his inheritance when he comes of age, but the shipping business and properties all will go to you. If you are concerned that your brother would not have approved, you can apprentice your nephew to you when he turns sixteen—if his mother will let him go—and he can profit from learning his father’s business. You can designate a portion of the fleet to be his, and still have untold wealth.”

“Constanzia is determined that he should choose his own path,” he continued, “If he wishes to spend time in Genoa, and follow in his father’s footsteps, she will not object.”

“Why are you doing this?” asked Rafaello, “You could have me act as regent for him and then he could come to Genoa and resume his father’s position when he comes of age.”

“Signor, we have both benefitted from the death of our brothers. Would that be fair to you to run the business for years and then have to turn it over to your nephew? No, it will be better for him to earn his way working for you. If he wishes to become your apprentice, then that is his wish. He will want for nothing, but his mother and I wish to be sure that he understands the value of work. With the wealth he will inherit he could too easily live a life of idleness.”

He was talking like a father. Something occurred to Rafaello that he had not thought of before. Was it possible that the child was not his brother’s, but Cesare Borgia’s? Constanzia had become pregnant after her wedding, possibly even on the wedding night—unless, of course, she was already carrying Borgia’s child. No wonder he could afford to be so generous.

“I find your terms satisfactory.” He and Cesare signed the document, then he poured the hot wax into a little puddle and affixed the seal. “I only hope that when she is well, she will come to visit and bring Marco with her. I would like to be present in my nephew’s life.”

“His mother would wish it also. I like you Signor Pallavicini, I wish you well in your endeavors.”

 

He returned to his room, anxious to see how Constanzia was. Carmilla sat and fanned her with a palmetto fan, the opium mixture was untouched. He motioned Carmilla to leave the room, then removed his boots and lay next to Constanzia, holding her tightly. Her eyes were still swollen with tears, but soon they would return to their natural loveliness. He could not make her pain go away, but he could be there, hold her, and reassure her. He did not know how long it would take for her to recover, but he would be there, he would not abandon her.

He had done his best for her. The five hundred thousand ducats would leave her and their son well provided for. The Pope would allow her at least a year for her period of mourning before there would be any talk of marriage.

He winced at the thought of this. He must hurry them home, for the Pope was seeking suitors for Lucrezia again. Though his father had a kind heart, as a politician he was ruthlessly ambitious. Cesare would not make the mistake of revealing the terms he had settle on with the young Pallavicini. If he was concerned about his grand nephew’s well being, Cesare would point out that the child and the mother would be generously provided for. If young Marco wished to follow in his namesake’s footsteps, he would have ample means and the assistance of his uncle to do so.

Constanzia stirred in his arms. “Cesare,” she said softly,” and he answered, “Yes, my love?”

“Is it true then, or was it only a dream? Is Calvino truly dead?” She turned over and nestled into him, smelling the comforting scent of leather and cologne.

He tightened his arms around her, “I’m afraid it is true, dearest love, your Calvino is with God and I am sure he is watching over you from heaven.”

“Then, I want to be with him, I do not want to live without him.” He could feel her tears on his shirt.

“You must not say that. Your little Marco needs you. Lucrezia needs you, and I need you. I could not bear to lose you, it would kill me. You must rest and get strong so you can care for your baby. I will take you back to Rome so you will be surrounded by your family and your happy memories. I will find you a house, or a palace if you like. Your son will grow up with little Giovanni, and we can teach them to ride their ponies and show them all the places we used to play when we were little.

He reached up and took the glass with the opium. “Here, drink this, it will help make you feel better.” He held it to her lips and she drank it like an obedient child. “There now, you rest, and when you wake, I will be holding you. I won’t let anything harm you. I love you, no one loves you as much as me, nor they will ever.”

Rafaello Pallavicini thoughtfully took care of the funeral arrangements while Cesare made preparations for their departure. He had a coach refurbished so that it held a bed so Constanzia could rest while they traveled. There was room for Carmilla and the wet nurse in case she had need of them.

Cesare had ordered Carmilla to bind her mistresses’ breasts. Carmilla angrily complied, knowing that it would not take long for Constanzia to lose her milk, making it more convenient for the Lord Borgia to resume relations with his mistress. Since Constanzia had spent most of the week sedated, she hardly noticed, but what would happen when she grew tired of the long sleep she spent most of her time in? Would she be dismayed that she could no longer nurse her son, or would she be eager to return to her lover’s arms?

A similar dilemma was facing Lucrezia. Giovanni was not quite weaned from the breast, but he was eating solid foods now in addition to his mother’s milk. Soon he would no longer need her. The final blow came when, without her consent, the pope hired a wet nurse to take over from his mother and wean him. And, after that, the suitors started to arrive.  
“If I must choose, Father, I will choose one whom I like. Surely, both my happiness and a suitable alliance with Rome need not be incompatible? There must be someone, amongst all these Don Juan’s that I will find pleasing. You took Giovanni’s care away from me, so surely I am owed that much.” Not to mention you are forcing me to marry—again, she thought resentfully.

The Pope muttered something and strode off. The last time she had married, she had been too young and naïve to stand up for herself. That had been a different Lucrezia, this Lucrezia now knew her own worth, and the value she was to her family. If she had not yet acquired her cousin’s serene poise and confidence, that would come with time.

This time she would make sure that she would derive some benefit from whatever match she made. Of course he must have wealth and power, that was non-negotiable, but she wanted something more. A man who valued her, would work with her, appreciated her intelligence, in addition to being kind and handsome. Constanzia had found it, why then could not she?

Where was Cesare? She needed his counsel and advice. Why was it taking so long to return from a trip celebrating a simple baptism? Had he resumed his dalliance wit Constanzia, surely she would not be ready to admit a man into her bed. Or had he stayed there simply to be around her? There were three women in the world that Cesare truly loved: his mother, her, and Constanzia. Suddenly a fit of jealousy came over her that she simply could not help.

 

Constanzia had roused herself long enough to attend her husband’s funeral, but had then returned to her bed. This is it, thought Cesare, tomorrow we leave. I must get her back to Rome and away from this place that must remind her daily of what she has lost. And to hell with whatever Father may say about the contract I made with Rafaello Pallavicini. I want to sever as many of her ties to Genoa as I can, and make sure my son has no links to her husband’s family. I may have made a bargain with the devil, but it will pay off in the long run, I think.

The party set out from Genoa the next morning. He had thought to give Constanzia some opium to calm her, but she had obediently allowed herself to be dressed in her traveling clothes when he had told her that they would be leaving.

The farewell she had given to Rafaello was far too affectionate for his comfort, but he said nothing. She seemed indifferent to leaving, as if Genoa meant nothing more to her than a place where she had dwelt for a while. 

He made it Micheletto’s task to check on her, and he told his master that she had fallen asleep shortly after their departure. Good then, he thought, let her sleep, let her sleep until we reach Rome. If sleep will cure her of her grief for her husband, so much the better. I know I must be patient with her, but how long will she make me wait? And what will I do if she starts to suspect me?


	19. Forbidden Fruits

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For those of you waiting for Cesare and Lucrezia, well, here it is. It may not satisfy you, but at last it fit into the story line!

The hour was late when they arrived in Rome, their way lit by the light of flickering torches. The streets were empty, no one greeted them or stared in curiosity. So quiet it was, so muted the conversations, that the only noise to be heard was that of hoof beats.

There was no one there to greet them at the Vatican residency except for the guards. Cesare lifted the sleeping Constanzia out of her bed in the carriage, and carried her to her old room, still the same as it was the day she left. The remainder of the party wandered out, yawning, handing reins to grooms, their only thought was of bed and a hearty breakfast in the morning.

Cesare grabbed Carmilla’s arm as he emerged from the coach. “See to your lady’s comfort before you retire. There is a room next to hers for the wet nurse and a cot for you in her room. I don’t want her left alone without my say so. Did you pack a bag for her needs?”

“Yes, my lord,” Carmilla bobbed a brief curtsey, wondering when she was allowed to go to bed.

“Good. Make sure she eats when she wakes, and that the baby is brought to her. I will be in my rooms, and if anything happens, you are to tell me.” He watched as the girl left. She was loyal to her mistress, but perhaps it was time to find one that was loyal to him—without upsetting her too much. Constanzia would not hesitate to fire Carmilla’s replacement and bring her back into her service—and to hell with what he wanted, she’d say.

He was bone tired when he finally returned to his room. When had he last spent so long in the saddle, anyway? His manservant removed his boots and after that he ordered him out. He poured himself a glass of wine, wondering again if he’d done the right thing, when he heard a light tapping on his door.

Lucrezia, dressed in her night clothes, let herself in. “Brother,” she said, and came and sat on his lap.

“Hello, sis,” he said, tightening his arm around her waist, “Why are you up?”

“I heard talking, and the horses, besides, since I became a mother I’ve become a light sleeper. I listen for Giovanni even in my dreams.”

“Hmm,” he took a glass and poured some wine, he had dismissed his manservants.

“Brother, why was Constanzia’s room prepared? I saw the servants in their yesterday cleaning and changing the linens. Do we have a visitor from Genoa?”

“Constanzia has some back to Rome. I sent orders ahead that preparations be made and rooms readied for her and the wet nurse.” He looked at Lucrezia to see her reaction.

“But why? You just went for a visit to be godfather to her son’s baptism. Why has she come back, Cesare? She would not have left her husband.”

“Her husband took suddenly ill and died. I brought her back here to be with family. She is ill with grief, but she is young, and will recover. It will take time, but that is no matter. She is a very wealthy widow now, and if she decides to re-marry should have her pick of suitors. When young Marco comes of age, he will come into a very large inheritance. I have seen to it that neither will ever want for anything. And I can raise my son as I see fit.”

Is that it, Cesare, she thought, is it about your son or could you no longer bear losing his mother? Was getting rid of him so easy? What will you say to Constanzia when she is no longer an invalid?

“Your son?” she asked gently, knowing his reply. He nodded, looking into her eyes and seeing that she guessed more than she was saying. “How is my cousin, then? She was so fond of Calvino; she must be taking this very hard.”

“She is suffering from grief and melancholy, plus the effects of birth. I am eager for her to be well once again, but keep telling myself I must be patient.” He made to pour another glass of wine, but she stayed his arm.

“And who is comforting you, brother? I know how much you love her, yet you cannot have her, as much as you desire her. Therefore, let me comfort you. Let my arms soothe you until you can hold her again.” She took his face in her hands and drew him to her. She took his lips, tasting the wine he had drunk.

At first he responded, unthinking, then he pulled back. “No, we must not do this, sis.”

But she would not let him go. “Is this truly so great a sin, between a brother and sister who love each other? You sin with Constanzia; she’s even born your child. No, take refuge tonight in my love for you. We Borgias hold secrets, many secrets, let this be one we hold between the two of us. I am just comforting you, my brother, my love.”

“Just tonight then, just this once,” he replied and began to pull her robe from her shoulders. When her nightshift joined it on the floor, he lifted her up and lay her on his bed.

How different she was from Constanzia. Her skin was alabaster and her hair spun hold, while Constanzia was the color of pale honey, and her cloak of hair the color of chestnuts. Lucrezia helped him remove his clothes, then he lay beside her, burying his face on her shoulder.

“I am so afraid she will not love me,” he whispered to her and Lucrezia wondered if Cesare’s hand could be found in Calvino Pallavicini’s early demise.

She pulled him close to her as his hands and mouth explored her, his forbidden country. Was this what this what it was like when he made love to Constanzia? She remembered LaBella telling her that men were not very original when it came to making love to one woman or another. 

She did not care; she gave herself over to it. If, in this night, she was committing the greatest sin of her life, she would loll in it, give herself completely over to it.

She gave a soft groan as he entered her and began to move. “Oh, Constanzia, my little love,” he whispered in her ear. “Lucrezia”, she wanted to say, “My name is Lucrezia,” but for some reason she did understood.

He collapsed when he finished, resting on top of her. She did not know what he was thinking, perhaps he felt more guilt than she did. She knew they had wanted each other, knew his love for Constanzia had nothing to do with her. This was something they had always wanted, a thing she could give to him in his grief.

“You should go, sis,” he said softly, “I just heard the guard walk by. All anyone has to do is look at you to know what you have been doing, and they must not guess it was with me.”

She sat up and pulled her clothes from the floor and put them on. “All right, if you wish me to leave, I will. I did not expect to be dismissed so quickly, Cesare.”

“Say rather that I am taking precautions. Any suspicion of this might find me banished and you in a convent. I would not have that happen to my Lucrezia.”

 

The next morning, she found him in Constanzia’s room, some of the lines of worry that had been there the night before erased from his handsome face. Constanzia was sitting up, holding their son, complaining that she had no more milk.

“But my love, for almost a week you could not nurse him. He has a wet nurse, but he is in your charge and no other’s. See how he smiles at you? He knows you are his mother and he is glad to be in your arms. Do not fret, little love, our Marco is healthy and happy.”

She let Cesare kiss her, though the look on her face was unsure. He manipulates her, Lucrezia thought, he convinces her to think what he wants her to think. I wonder if he caused her maid to bind her breasts so her milk would dry up more quickly. He can’t want her to have a child again, not this soon! Or does he?

“I hope I will see you tonight at dinner, you have been in your bed long enough.” He stood up and kissed Constanzia’s hands and said, “I love you, my sweet girl.” He bowed to both of them and left the room.

Was that for me, thought Lucrezia, is he declaring his love for her or telling me that last night will never happen again? He was so passionate; yet why did he call me “Constanzia?”

“Lucrezia, is it only me does he scare you sometimes?  
”  
Lucrezia took the spot Cesare had vacated and took Constanzia’s hands. “What do mean, my dearest?”

Constanzia sighed. “Sometimes he plays a game that only he is aware of. When I found out Calvino had died, I could still nurse my son. Now, my milk is gone. Something happened to me, it was as if I had fallen into a deep sleep, and I’ve only now wakened. The trip from Genoa to Rome might well have been a dream. And I’ve had such frightful nightmares, and I don’t know why.”

“Because your husband died, surely it was because of that!”

“No, these dreams started later. Cesare has been so attentive, has hardly left my side, but I have so much trouble remembering things. I went to the funeral, and the graveside services, but after that I fell asleep again, it’s as if I didn’t wake up until now. I don’t even know why I’m here, I had thought to stay in Genoa and keep Marco away from Vatican politics, but here I am.”

Lucrezia put her arm around her shoulders. “Well, does it help to know that I am glad you’re here. Father has determined that I should marry again. Sometimes I think I’d like to, but I’m not so sure. What about Giovanni? What if I can’t take him with me? There are some of the noble houses that will not tolerate the presence of a bastard child, and if I am forced to leave Rome, I will have to leave him behind, and I can’t bear it.”

“You can leave him with me,” Constanzia said, “I will take him. I’ll raise him alongside my little Marco. We’ll make sure that if you can’t bring him with you, he can at least visit with me and my son. I am the widow to the heir of a noble house, I’ll play that card and they’ll have to let you see him whether they want to or not.”

 

She came to the family table that night dressed in black silk woven with gold threads, a black veil pinned to her hair. She held her head up during the meal, taking in the condolences and the questions regarding her health. After the meal she retired to her chambers, but if she had hoped to be alone, she was disappointed.

Cesare dismissed Carmilla and the wet nurse for the night. He put his silky lips on her bare shoulders, and started to unlace her gown.  
“No,” she said, “You can’t, I’m in mourning.”

“Ah, but I’m not willing to wait any longer.” He finished with her dress and pushed it off her shoulders. The rest of her garments fell to the floor, along with the black veil.

“I can’t, you can’t make me. Cesare, I don’t want to.”

He stood and smiled while he removed his clothes. “Don’t worry, I’ll be gentle. I’ve waited a long time for this, and I don’t think I want to wait any longer.”

She burst into tears as he took her into his arms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Noble women used to bind their breasts after childbirth to force their periods so they could conceive again--barbaric.
> 
> I see Cesare as good and evil. He may have questionable motives, but it doesn't mean he is not capable of loving


	20. Da Vida Nuova

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cesare tells Constanzia he has purchased a house for her, and put it in her name so she is sole owner. She does not think that she can afford it until he informs her that she has inherited 500,000 ducats from Calvino, she is now a rich and independent young widow. Lucrezia meets one of the suitors chosen for her, Alfonzo de Aragona, and she finds him pleasing but that does not stop her from returning to Cesare's bed. Cesare decides that for the sake of all concerned, he and Constanzia must leave the Vatican before Lucrezia decides to make trouble

Cesare was feigning sleep, Constanzia could always tell. Though his face was still and his breathing even, she knew without a doubt that he was awake. His arms were around hers, pinning her, and whenever she tried to move his grip tightened, a game he liked to play. If it weren’t so close to sunrise, she might have enjoyed the game.

She would like to have remained in bed, safe and loved in the circle of his arms, but she had heard the guard outside walk by, which meant Cesare must leave before they were discovered.

What am I? she thought, to be in bed with my old lover and my husband freshly in his grave. She should feel remorseful, guilty even, but it had been a joy to have Cesare back in her bed. I guess it’s because we fit, because we understand each other. We’re not like any other, we can handle whatever comes and keep our love strong. Even if he marries…what if he does marry? She suddenly thought in a panic.

She knew he must. Just as there were other mistresses, there would be a wife. Cesare was no longer a cardinal and the Pope would seek a political alliance through a marriage for him, just as it was possible, for the sake of another of the Pope’s alliances, she most likely would find herself being married after her period of mourning was up.

She could see sunlight reflected on the floor, it was time Master Cesare left whether he wished it or not. She turned her head and bit him hard on his right pectoral, which had the effect she desired.

He cuffed her playfully, “Little minx,” he said, “Are you forcing me out of your most comfortable bed?”

“You know you need to leave before the household wakes, and now that I’m a widow…”

“I know,” he said, and began to dress, “Constanzia, do you remember when I told you about a house I’d found that I thought would be perfect for us?”

“Yes?”

“Well, I’ve purchased it and put it in your name. Mother helped me furnish it, and I could have it ready in a month for you to move in—if you wanted.”

It sounded wonderful, her own home, but was not possible, was it? “I couldn’t afford to maintain a household, not to mention a coach, and horses, and servants.”

He took her in his arms, his chest bare and tempting. She wanted very badly to return to her bed with him. “You are a very wealthy young widow now. Your husband left you five hundred thousand ducats.”

Her eyes lit up. “Five hundred thousand ducats? I could live on the interest and not have to touch the principal. Five hundred thousand ducats, really!”

“So, you’re a greedy, grasping Borgia just like the rest of us. Yes, my dear, you are at last a very wealthy young woman. When it’s time for you to marry again, assuming you wish to, you will have your pick of suitors. Better still, you don’t need to marry again, at all. I have business to take care of this morning, but I will show it to you after lunch.” He kissed her, a long, lingering kiss, finished dressing then left her rooms.

A house. A house of her own would mean freedom. Cesare could come and go as he liked, and no one would be the wiser. She could entertain for him, for she was sure the house he’d picked was suitable. It would be all hers, no husband, no family, a place of retreat. She had loved Calvino, loved her duties as his wife, but she’d found it tiresome at times. She wished she could have another child, but as a single woman she would face the consequences. She wasn’t Lucrezia, she was not bold enough for that. Maybe, if they decided they wanted more children, Cesare would find someone for her to marry who would not object to sharing his wife.

 

There was a litter waiting for her after lunch, thoughtfully provided by Cesare so she would not have to ride. There was room enough for her and Carmilla to ride comfortably while Cesare and Micheletto rode slowly beside them, so they could talk as they made their way through the streets of the fashionable section of Rome.

Please, not a palace, she prayed, but they stopped in front of a large villa with an iron gate set into its walls. Micheletto got out and unlocked the gate, and handed the key to his master. Cesare helped her out of the litter, instructing Carmilla to stay until called for. He then had the litter taken through the side entrance which had clearly been built to allow carriages to pass through.

The villa was large, with a circular Greek style portico. The porch was roomy enough to receive visitors, and led to a large reception area. The indoor decorations bore Vanozza’s stamp, both tasteful and elegant. Was Vanozza aware that Cesare had chosen this house with his cousin in mind? Or had she seen it as bachelor’s quarters away from the eyes and ears of the Vatican.

Cesare led her though the house room by room. The dining, reception and family sitting room were all on the lower story, along with an office for him. Upstairs were five bedrooms, along with a guest room and a nursery for Marco, and any children who followed. The upstairs stories were full of windows, just as she liked, for she hated dark shadowy rooms and loved natural light.

He watched her face closely as he gave her a tour. “You could move in within the month,” he told her, “All that remains is to hire servants we can trust, but we could borrow from Mother and the Vatican until we find ones of our own. And we will need grooms, there is a very fine stable where we could house our horses, no more trusting others with their well being.”

“There’s no paddock, though, I like to turn them out and let them graze. But I do like this place, Cesare. I would like to be my own mistress, I am tired of being the Pope’s niece. And to have privacy, with no danger of someone watching our comings and goings. We have been lucky that no one has suspected us. We could even have another child if we could find someone to take the role of the father.”

He put his arms around her waist, “I would like to have another child, a girl this time that we could name ‘Lucrezia the Younger’. But it will be harder, my love, do you wish to be married again?”

“No, I don’t, and if I do I want it to be someone who is willing to do our bidding. So what if I bear his children and yours? There is no one I trust, though, and little Marco is just a baby, I’m not ready to have another child.”

When they locked the gates, he handed the keys to her. “The house is in your name,” he said, “Yours in perpetuity. This is our refuge, a place where we can belong, a place where we can relax without being under the watchful eyes of the Vatican. I wanted to provide you a refuge, away from prying eyes.”

“And so you have,” she replied, feeling guilty that she had given Calvino little thought throughout the afternoon. Had she loved him as she thought she had, or had he merely been a means of escaping Rome?

When she returned, Lucrezia was waiting in her suite. “Where have you been?” she demanded, “I’ve been waiting for you. The first of the suitors arrive today, I would have you there with me to give me your opinion.”

“Let me change my gown then, this one has grass stains on the hem. Carmilla, I wish to wear the pink and gold.” 

“How did you dress acquire grass stains?”

“You must tell no one, not yet, but Cesare has bought me a house, he’s even put it in my name. I’m to move in as soon as the final arrangements are made. Just think, you can bring little Giovanni to play where there will be nothing but trees to watch over him. And Cesare and I can finally have some privacy, no hidden eyes watching to see what we do.”

“Well, come then, we have suitors to meet.” Lucrezia hid her displease under happiness for her cousin’s new home. This was not what she had imagined, Cesare being taken away from her when she had just begun to experience the delights of his embraces.

The girls crept downstairs to the hidden balcony where Constanzia had first laid eyes on Calvino Pallavicini. A parade of men passed through, none clearly worth the while of either girl, until a young Spaniard came into the entryway. 

He was not too tall, but his bearing was elegant. He rested his hand on his sword, and in his black and scarlet doublet set a dashing picture. He smiled up at the girls as they gave up all pretense of hiding, and bowed.

“If his temperament is sweet as his bearing is noble, I think you have found your husband, Lucrezia. He looks young, but I’ll wager he’s a little older than you. If my house were ready, I would give a dinner for him, and we could invite Sancia, Gioffre, and Cesare—if he will deign to come. Now tell the truth, he has caught your eye, has he not? And he’s not only young and handsome, he’s rich--he’s the illegitimate son of the king of Naples.”

“A bastard like me, I find that comforting somehow. And it’s no disgrace to be the bastard of a king. Should someone who seems so perfect not have flaws?”

“If you want flaws, look to your brothers. Look at Cesare and me. We have a bastard son that we passed off as my husband’s, can you get more flawed than that? Though I know it’s done all the time. Go ask your father if you may talk to him, ask if I can be your chaperone. If I were you, I would have taken Calvino when he was offered to you, this one looks to be the next best thing.”

 

Lucrezia crept into Cesare’s bed again that night, startling him into wakefulness. “Is something wrong? Why are you here?” he said.

“You bought Constanzia a house? When shall I be able to see you on our own? I am to be married to Alfonso de Aragona. Please brother, please, love me one more time. I shall never know the delights of your embraces again. If I am to spend the rest of my life in the arms of another man, I would at least know the embrace of the one I love most one last time.”

He wanted to turn her away, but she was slipping her robe and night shift from her shoulders, revealing her snow white breasts—and he was only a man. He could feel himself hardening again and knew he must spare Constanzia a little longer. Why did his other mistresses not tempt him the way his sister and his cousin did? He knew he should tell her to go away, but he reached for her this one last time. If Constanzia found out she would not forgive him, but as Lucrezia had said, Borgias have many secrets.

He put his mouth on her breast and slid his hands between her silky thighs. “You drive me to madness, sis, but truly this must be the last time. I will not have you while I am bedding Constanzia.” He was utterly lost as he slipped into her, wondering if he would ever find the pleasure he found in the beds of his cousin and sister.

When at least they finished, she got up and dressed, then kissed him. “I do not care about your mistresses, but I promise I will never betray my cousin again. I love you, and Constanzia, Cesare,” she said and slipped out of his room.

“I do not need this,” he thought. He would move Constanzia into the house now, before Lucrezia caused more trouble. She needed to get married and lose her obsession with him. If she married young Aragona she would have someone else to think about—he hoped. It was time he and Constanzia left the Vatican before Lucrezia decided to make mischief.


	21. The Blessed Connubial State For Now

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Throwing in some factoids that didn't make it into Showtimes Borgias. Cesare is moving Constanzia into his new villa, and his mother has guessed. He informs Constanzia that she will move in soI oner than later, and BTW, he must go to Naples to settle Lucrezia's dowry and marriage contract. After that, he must go to France, bringing with him the annulment that Louis XII desires so he can rid himself of his barren hunchback wife. Cesare will seek an army and a French bride, but the coming conflicts may affect Lucrezia in a way she does not expect

He joined his mother for breakfast the next day, an event that was occurring less and less frequently. The Pope took up much of his time and these days he saw little of his mother. He waited for his brother and Lucrezia to leave the table, then gave his mother his most winning smile.

She knew the smile from old. “Tell me, Cesare, is there something that I can do for you?”

“I wondered, Mother, if you could do me a favor. I wish to hire servants for my new house, but do not have the time to search for them myself. I was wondering if you could do it for me.”

“Why is this house so important to you, my son? Do you not have apartments at the Vatican so you can be close to your father in case he needs you? Just who is going to live in this house you bought?” 

His look told her all. You are not so clever as you think, my son, no more so than your father. “Very well then, I will hire a cook, housekeeper, and major domo for you. You can have them finish hiring your household staff.”

“But will they not rob me? That is why I came to you.”

“Servants steal from you, Cesare, that is how they get by. They will hire those they trust, those they know they can count on, often family. You only need step in when they become careless and think you do not watch them.” Something dawned on her, “This is for Constanzia, isn’t it? That child, her child, it’s yours, isn’t it? Not her husband’s. Did you kill him—no, don’t tell me. Constanzia knows how to run a household and will keep your staff in line.” And good luck to her, she thought, if the Pope decides to marry her, she will have no choice.

He kissed his mother, and left. As soon as there were sufficient servants, and a larder full of food, he would move Constanzia, and himself, into his, no her, new house. He would have to spend at least half his nights in the Vatican to allay his father’s suspicions. The Pope had never concerned himself with Cesare’s lovers, why should he start now? Surely his mother would not…

He found Constanzia in her apartments holding their child. He stroked the baby’s dark curly hair, then kissed him. She smiled at him, having finally found a contentment after losing her husband and resigning herself to his attentions. She looked so fetching that he vowed to have Perugino paint her, holding her son. But not as a Madonna, she must wear one of her most fetching gowns and the baby his baptismal robes. He’d like to have her painted nude from the waist up while holding her son, but then he would have to hide the picture from critical eyes.

He kissed her, his lips lingering on hers. “I’m moving you in as soon as Mother can find some servants, and the pantries stocked with food. I don’t want to wait, I’m tired of having to leave you before the servants are awake. Get whatever you need, you women are far better at knowing what a household needs than I ever will. We’ll move in in a week. Have your servants start packing so you’ll be ready to leave.”

Not once had he asked her what she wanted, but suddenly she longed for her own household again, to be free of the Vatican, the servants with their sly, knowing smiles. “All right, Cesare, but I will choose exactly what I want and you will pay for it.”

She let him slip his arms around her, saying, “Whatever you say, Querida, simply give me the receipts and I will have them taken care of.”

He dismissed her maids and pulled off her clothes. Her hair had not yet been dressed and fell about her like a cloak, hiding her charms. “Do not cut your hair, my darling, it is too beautiful to lose.” He took her to her bed, removed his clothes and had her hurriedly. He wished there were more time, but once again he must play errand boy for the Pope, and he had to tell her what he had come to tell her in the first place.

“I’m going to Naples, to arrange Lucrezia’s dowry and marriage contract. I am afraid they will not accept the child, so I count on you and Sancia to take care of him in his mother’s absence.” At least our child isn’t a bastard, you will know no pain of being parted from him, he thought.

“Is that true, then, the king of Naples will separate her from her child? And she is so fond of Alfonso, I think she might be happy this time, but she will take this hard.”

“I know, my love, but I have something hard I must tell to you.” He looked into her brown eyes and gently touched her cheek. “Father has commanded me to take a wife in France. I want to reassure you, this will not touch us. This marriage is only for convenience, and an heir¬.”

Were I to believe that lie, I would indeed be a fool, she thought, but it is sweet of you to tell it to me. “Whatever happens, my dearest love, we will work it out. Your son will always be -our son, only you and I know the truth. If I must be nice to your wife, I will. Who knows, when I am out of mourning your father may marry me again. Just don’t prefer her to me and I will be happy.” She thought for a moment, “Lucrezia marries Naples, while you are to marry France. What will happen if the king of France decides he wants to take back Naples?”

“We will worry about this later. Were I not to travel to France I would bring you with me. Perhaps I should bring you anyway, and we can find you a French husband.”

“Only if he’s wealthy.” She responded, the same old jest.

Cesare kissed her goodbye, tucked the blankets around his son. “We will make you a lord of the Romagna someday,” he promised, “And you will marry a princess so that you can take care of your mother.” He kissed Constanzia again, took a last look at himself in the mirror, then left her rooms to call for his horse.

When she was sure he could not hear her, she burst into tears. From the moment he discarded his cardinal’s robes, she knew this day was coming. The Pope needed an heir, and he depended on Cesare to provide him one. Charles VIII had died and his cousin Louis XII had ascended the throne. Louis’ wife was a hunchback and barren, and France would want an heir. Rumors abounded as to who he wished to marry, but the likely candidate seemed to be the widow of Charles, Anne of Brittany.

But to do this, he would need the marriage annulled by the Pope. This favor would not come cheap. Cesare wanted a wife and an army, but the army might prove to be easier to acquire than his choice of wife.

She dried her eyes and said, “You can come out now, Carmilla, we have our work cut out for us. I promised I would chaperone Lucrezia when she meets her betrothed for a luncheon, and we must find some merchants who will supply me with what I need. I’m not going to use gold and silver dishes, the Venetians have been importing fine porcelain from China and I am going to set a new trend. Silver flatware, and hand painted porcelain plates. I am going to buy crystal goblets from Ireland, and that will be expensive. If Cesare wants me at his beck and call, then he will have to pay for it.”

“Madame, I heard, are you all right? Does my lord Cesare truly intend to wed?”

“Yes, but I take some comfort in the fact that he might not be able to marry the bride of his choice. I have heard rumors that he wishes to marry Carlotta of Aragon, and it is said she will have none of him. If my lord hopes to woo her, I wish him good luck, for she has declared she will have nothing to do with him.”  
“Carlotta of Aragon? Is she…”

“The sister of Lucrezia’s betrothed? Yes, she is, and unlike Cesare and our young Alfonso, she is not a bastard, but his only legitimate daughter. Cesare is reaching high, and I do not yet know how far his ambition will reach. Sometimes I think I should return to Spain, the lengths that my uncle and my beloved cousin will go to frighten me. I do not think things will end well for Cesare and I do not wish to be here to see him fall.”

 

Lucrezia looked sweetly pretty in her peach colored gown, eagerly waiting for her Alfonso to see just how beautiful she was. Just what went on behind her sweet expression, Constanzia wondered, Lucrezia was beginning to show signs of the Borgia penchant for ambition, Cesare and the Pope were greedy to build a Borgia empire, perhaps even to control all of the Italian peninsula. This could not happen unless the Pope lived a long, healthy life. Cesare had no allies, save the Vatican, and were he to lose the support of his father, he might lose all.

And where did Alfonso d’Aragona fit in with all of this? As a bastard his hope, if he had any, of inheriting Naples was slim. And what would an alliance with France bring the Pope? Louis wanted Milan, he also wanted the return of Naples. The Neapolitan royal family would be driven from their kingdom and Lucrezia’s ties to Naples would be useless. She would not give much for the chance of young Alfonso remaining alive for long, if that became the case.

She sat, next to her cousin, spreading the skirts of her pink and gold gown. “Where is your young man, cousin?” she asked.

“Oh, he’ll be here soon,” Lucrezia answered dreamily. The consummate hostess, she ordered that the wine be poured while they waited for Alfonso.

When he arrived, she saw the look on her cousin’s face, and was grateful that this time, at least, she was marrying for love, or at least the courtly love they all admired. Alfonso stood as if he were posing for a painting, the sheer beauty of his face heart melting. He kissed Lucrezia’s hand, then bowed to her, ever correct in his manners. He sat across from them, and his eyes never left Lucrezia’s face.

She felt like an intruder, but Lucrezia would require a chaperone until they were married. A pity, Constanzia thought, Lucrezia’s young man was so clearly a gentleman and would never attempt to pass the bounds of propriety. As had been Calvino, she allowed herself a brief thought of him. She had been allowed to love him for such a brief time, then he was gone. She hoped that Lucrezia would not suffer her fate. Had Cesare been the cause of his demise, she wondered?

Alfonso had dark curly hair and dark brown eyes, and the ivory skin of the Spaniard. She watched as Lucrezia gazed at him, her heart in her eyes. She hoped that she could be happy for a while, but the cousin she loved so passionately seemed to be turning into a stranger who manipulated all of their lives to his own ends. She did not know what Alfonso wanted for himself, besides providing a connection to Rome, but if he were not ambitious, Lucrezia would be enough for the both of them.

“Let them be married as quickly as possible,” she prayed, “and let her have another child to replace the one she will be separated from. Ah, Father, did you truly know what you were doing when you sent me to Rome?”


	22. Second Marriage and a Second Chance?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trying to pull some history in here.
> 
> Cesare has gone to Naples to negotiate Lucrezia's marriage contract and Constanzia has moved into their new home. She wonders what will come of Lucrezia's marriage if France asserts its rule over Naples as Louis XII clearly intends, for he has voiced his intention to reclaim not only Milan but Naples as well. When he returns Constanzia reminds Cesare again that he must cultivate allies in the Romagna, for if something happens to Alexander VI, Cesare will be alone and on his own. She also tells him that she is expecting their second child, and is hoping for a girl

Cesare did not spend the night with her before his departure, but came to make his farewells and receive her blessing and tell her of his plans in the early morning. “You must move in while I am gone, the staff is nearly full and what the larders do not hold you can obtain from the market—which I know you prefer. When I return, we can spend our first night together in our home, you, me, and our Marco.”

She put her arms around him, holding him tightly, trying to hide her fears from him. There was something she knew which he did not, but she would not tell him until he came home—and hoped that all would be well.

“Goodbye, my love, safe travels, and may the negotiations go smoothly. Does Lucrezia know the ‘Infans Romanus” will have to remain in Rome when she goes to Naples?”  
“I have not yet told her,” he said gravely, “But it is the custom for children from a previous marriage to not accompany their mother when she re-marries. It would not matter if Giovanni were legitimate or not.” He kissed her hands, and took his leave.

She and Julia were assigned the task of entertaining the couple while they waited for Cesare to return from Naples with the marital contract. For once she was glad to be in mourning, she could take part in entertainments when she wished, but was not required at state functions. She had never had so much time to herself, except for taking care of her Marco, it left her free to be by herself and obligated to no one.

She moved her household to her new villa, finding it seemed almost deathly quiet to the noise and hustle of the Vatican. At first it was hard to adjust to, then she found herself enjoying being her own mistress, and ordering things as she liked. Even the new servants seemed to suit her, and for now they obeyed her with no objections, though she knew that might change. Maybe being the mistress of Cesare Borgia convinced them.

Two days after establishing herself in her new house, Cesare returned. He came to see her immediately following reporting to the Pope. He handed his cloak and hat to a servant, and went into the sitting room and collapsed upon the divan. He commanded that Marco be brought to him and soon one of the nurse’s appeared, holding the infant in her arms.

“God, I am glad that is over,” he said, holding his son high while the baby laughed, “I wonder why Father is even bothering with Naples. France and Spain both claim it, and soon one, hopefully the French, will assert their rule.”

“And your father wants you to marry France! Will that not create problems? If France re-takes control of Naples, what will that do to Lucrezia’s marriage? Cesare, she is in love with Alfonso, for the first time she is marrying for love as well as your father’s ambitions.”

“Nothing is settled yet, my love, her marriage may prove safe. You on the other hand, where will father send you?”

“Nowhere, my mourning is not yet up. And I may prove to be a less than desirable bride.”

“Why is that, my love?” he asked her.

She came to him and placed his hand on her belly, smiling, and the smile told him all.

He handed the baby to his nurse and picked her up and spun her around until she protested. “Are you sure? When is it due?”

“Eight months from now, I should think. I wanted to wait until you returned to tell you. Are you pleased?”

“Oh, little love, how could you even ask that? Yes, I am pleased, perhaps it will be a brother for our little Marco.”

“I am hoping it is a sister, someone who will make an advantageous marriage for the House of Borgia. I am so happy, Cesare, I worry only what the Holy Father will say. You are going to have to recognize her, you know.”

“I will, and you leave Father to me. I will convince him to make a bull and legitimize him or her. Children are a blessing Constanzia, and our little Marco’s health and vigor are proof that we are blessed. I will make a good marriage for you and…”

“Cesare, I don’t want to marry again. I’ve been married twice and both times my husbands died prematurely. Maybe if you find someone who appeals to me, I will live with him and be his mistress, but I will not marry.” 

 

“But now, with my connections to France, I could make an advantageous match for you. Maybe not one of the royal family, but a prestigious one all the same. You are beautiful, can provide a good dowry, and you’ve born healthy children, so an heir would be assured.”

“Cesare, I’ve been married twice, widowed twice. I’d much rather be a mistress and not be tied to a husband. Maybe if I married a French husband and he consented to live in Rome, I might consider it. France is cold and rainy, I’m a Roman girl, a Turkish girl, we live in the sun.”

“But with you in France you could look after my interests. I’d suggest Spain, but soon that will not be an alternative.”

“So, the Holy Father will give his blessing if France wants Milan and Naples?”

“Milan for now, Naples? Perhaps later, but I do not see Spanish influence lasting there for long.”

They sat on her bed and she took his hand. “I wish I weren’t in mourning, then I would go with you, and perhaps seek out a husband myself. Have you or the Holy Father thought about what affect this might have on Lucrezia?”

He patted the hand that held his, then stood up. “She’s a Borgia, my love, as are you. We do as the Holy Father bids us for his sake. Lucrezia knows this, as do you and I. A match with France will provide me with an army, as well as a bride and some badly needed money. I want to rule the Romagna and I cannot conquer it without an army.”

“Then you will have to take my advice, or you will utterly fail. You cannot rely upon the Vatican to give you what you need. What if uncle dies and Della Rovere becomes Pope? He bears this family no great love, neither you nor your father have found favor in his eyes. And he has the French disease, he will grow more unstable and unreliable. You need to court the young lords of the Romagna, convince them that you are the future, if you cannot make them your allies, someday you may lose all you’ve gained.”

This was not what he’d expected to hear. “You truly mean this? You think that once I establish my empire I could lose it? That is not loyal of you, cousin.”

“It is because I am afraid for you and our children. What if the French desert you to pursue their own interests, especially at a time when you need them the most? Kings are fickle, Cesare, we both know this, as are popes. We are at the mercy of fortune, perhaps you will conquer Caterina Sforza, obtain the power you desire, but what if it doesn’t last? What if everyone you’ve counted on deserts you? I am so afraid at times, Cesare, you have no idea. I have these dreams…”

He down next to her, “Shh, you are upsetting yourself. What if none of your fears comes to pass? You are with child, my love, and you are fearful, it is natural. I intend to take the Romagna for us and make it a safe place for our child. We will make him a duke, perhaps even of Forli.”

He drew her close to him, “When I marry, it will provide me with connections I do not now have. I will have an army, I will have cannon and a cavalry well as an infantry. Do not think my plans are not well thought out.”

“Then be careful of the bride you choose. I do not think Carlotta D’Aragona will want you, and a Neapolitan connection may not be in your best interests. I think Naples is doomed to the French, Louis XII has made his intentions clear. We may have to rescue Lucrezia and her husband someday.”

He lifted her chin with his finger, “Are you a witch, my love, that you can foretell the future? Were it anyone but you saying these things to me I do not think I would believe what I am hearing. As it is, you are scaring me a little. Have faith, it will be all right, I will arrange an advantageous marriage for you, maybe to a member of the French royal family. You are not to worry; it is bad for the child. Let us see Lucrezia married, and then wait for what the future will bring.” He kissed her, then gave the baby one last kiss, before she watched his elegant frame slip out the door.

Someday, Cesare, she thought, my words to you will be proved right. When uncle dies they will crush you, and you will lose all you have gained. Where did this come from? Why am I thinking this way? All I know is that I am scared, and he will not listen to me.


	23. Cesare takes a Bride

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cesare has decided to take a wife. He and the Pope want him to marry Carlotta Aragona so he can someday take the throne of Naples. Constanzia sees it from another angle. Carlotta has stated that she will not "marry a priest who is a song of a priest and has no royal blood". Constanzia reminds him that Louis will most likely take the throne of Naples and is unlikely to yield it to Cesare. She encourages him, telling him that he will find favor with the French king, does she not know him and how much he has to offer. She tells him that he will be on his own, and will not have access to his father for advice, and furthermore, his is a good soldier but must now learn to be a diplomat. She encourages him to seek a different bride if Carlotta will not have him. He does not agree, but sees the wisdom of her advice.

This is where I tried to insert historical stuff. Yes, Cesare did have a silver commode covered with gold brocade for his journey. Joan of France pretty much knew that her marriage would be dissolved. The French did not think much of Cesare’s pretentious manners, but Louis decided that he liked this young Roman. Alexander and Cesare wanted him to marry Carlotta of Aragon so that he might occupy the throne. Charlotte D’Albret was offered as a consolation prize, but Cesare seemed happy with her, after all she did have royal blood and was sister to the king of Navarre. Alexander VI would have forbidden it, but Cesare would not change his mind. So much for an introduction and history lesson..

They presented a striking picture at Lucrezia’s wedding. Cesare, as usual, was dressed in black and Constanzia’s gown was black with stripes of gold. They drew stares of disapproval as he escorted her onto the dancefloor, but neither cared.

They were beautiful and knew it, so alike in features that they might be brother and sister. They danced brazenly, each movement a seeming caress, causing some to whisper the old rumors, that Constanzia was her cousin’s lover, that the baby said to be Pallavicini’s was in reality his. As they looked deep into the other’s eyes each time they, smiling, the whispers started. “Why doesn’t he just take her to his chambers?” “He and his sister are lovers, too,” said another, “That’s why the Pope is sending Lucrezia to Naples, to get her away from Cesare.”

But no one knew for certain, and brother, sister and cousin danced until the late hours, when Lucrezia and Alfonso were put to bed. The Pope blessed the newlyweds and wished them goodnight, and the men and ladies of the court followed him out of their room.

Cesare took Constanzia to her villa, and they made love until the sun came up. To Cesare it felt like a guilty pleasure, sinful even, to risk the pregnancy, but Constanzia pregnant was lovely and golden, all curves and as eager for him as he was for her. The fact that he would not see her for two months or more made his need for her more urgent.

They slept until noon, having not gone to sleep until sunrise. When they woke there were shadows under her dark eyes, but the look was not unflattering. He loosened her hair, and it fell, tangled about her shoulders, and she looked lovely and tempting, but he knew he could remain in her bed no longer.

She took his hand, “Tell me again, Cesare, what the French king has promised you.” Constanzia took a lock of his dark hair and began winding it around her finger. 

“Well,” Cesare answered her, taking her hand and kissing the palm, “Louis XII is giving me a very handsome sum of money as well as the golden collar of the Order of Saint Michael. I am going to be made Duke of Valentinois. And, provided that I am willing to help him remove the Sforzas from Milan, I am going to be given the army I so badly need. Once Milan is returned to the French the army will be at my disposal for as long as I need it.”

“And a bride, he’s promised you a bride, don’t forget that. Uncle wants to see you on the throne of Naples so that’s why he wants you to marry Carlotta of Aragorn —why in the world does he think Louis would want that? Louis will have himself invested as king of Naples—he won’t take a chance with a greedy, grasping Borgia. When do you leave, my love?”  
He sighed, “Tomorrow or the next day. I must make sure that Father has drawn up the papers for Louis’ annulment. The horses and mules are being prepared for the journey. I will travel to Civitavecchia, then sail to Marseilles.” He kissed the hand that held his, “I wish you were going with me.”

“If I thought it were a good idea, I would. I’m not sure the journey would be good for the baby. Cesare,” she sat up, “I thought of something and I want you to listen to me. This will be the first time you will not have access to your father if you need him. You do not have much experience with diplomacy,” he smiled at her and she said, “But you don’t. It’s possible that things may not proceed as you wish, and you will have to be patient. You’re arrogant, aloof, you have a short temper, and you’re impatient—you know you are. You’re going to have to cultivate patience, if you want to succeed.”'

He smiled again, “That is not a very flattering picture you present of me, cousin.”

She ignored him. “This is new to you, Cesare. You’re a very able military leader, but you have not yet learned the art of diplomacy. I want you to succeed, your success will enable to make a good match if I decide I want to marry. You will be a good leader of men someday, but you need to learn how to do it.”

“And you still believe that I will not be able to marry Carlotta of Aragon?” They had been arguing about this since he first told her.

“Yes, I am afraid that is how it will play out. I know the Holy Father would see you on the throne of Naples, but if Carlotta refuses to marry you, I don’t think her father will force her. I don’t think seeking another alliance with Naples will do you much good, Naples will go to France eventually and Louis will have himself invested as king of Naples, just as Charles did. He won’t let you have Naples. Why not a French bride? Or Navarre? If you seek to cement a close French alliance, that would be the best choice.”

He did not believe her; he was sure that he could secure Carlotta d’Aragona. He was the Pope’s son and a man on the rise. She had an uncanny way of being right, though, and if Carlotta would not have him, there were plenty of the queen’s ladies to choose from, all well born, all with generous dowries. But they wouldn’t give him Naples.

She looked at him, “We’re upstarts Cesare, remember? We’ve clawed our way to the top. You’re seeking to marry a Spanish princess without the benefit of possessing a drop of royal blood, and you know the Spanish. I don’t think Ferdinand and Isabella will provide much in the way of cooperation. You’re going to have to win the French over, instead.”

“Louis is going to like you, I know it. You’re intelligent, talented, driven, not afraid of hard work. You are very personable when you choose to be, and it’s hard not to be drawn to you. It’s just that this is a new situation for you. You’re going to be on your own with no one to smooth things over for you. I’m sure the papal bull you bring him for his annulment will help promote good relations for you, and if Carlotta won’t marry you, I’m sure he’ll find someone who will suit.”

He took her hand, “Let’s get dressed, I have something I want to show you.” Fortunately, they had slept in her palace, and she had access to her riding clothes.

“Come on,” he said, and took her to the Vatican’s stables. There was a long line of mules, each loaded and ready to leave, cloths of red and gold, the French colors, covering their back. She wandered down the line until she found a particularly bulky load, and pulled the covering.

She gasped at what she saw. Cesare had had a silver commode made, covered with gold brocade. She giggled and looked at him, wide eyed. “Really Cesare? I hear the French are not fond of what they call ‘vulgar display of wealth’, so I can only imagine what they’d think of this. I’d ask what possessed you to do this, but I don’t think I want to hear the answer.”

“Then you shan’t have it,” he said, and replaced the cover. “But I do have something for you, as a way of apology for this. Not knowing how long I’ll be gone, I mean. I thought I’d give it to you now.”

The grooms brought forth an Arabian mare, jet black and shiny even in the dim light of the early day. “I know you favor this breed. I am bringing a pair to Louis and when I saw this one, I decided that you must have it. I know you want to start breeding them and now you at least have the beginning of a broodmare band. I rode her, and she’s fast, and temperamental, just the way you like them.”

“I love her,” she put her arm around his waist, “does she have a name?”

“She will when you give her one. And now you have to excuse me, I have more preparations to see to. I will miss you, you know. I can’t spend the night again between now and when I leave, I don’t need you distracting me,” He kissed her, “I will write you, I promise. I will have to send dispatches to Father, so I’ll send letters to you along with them.”  
“Write me often,” she said as he turned away, and knew he would not neglect her. She wasn’t worried about a bride, French or Neapolitan, He would wed her and bed her, and as soon as he knew she was pregnant, he would return to Rome, and until he did, Rome would seem empty without him.

 

“Come to Naples with me,” urged Lucrezia, “A change in scenery would do you good. And it will be comforting to me to have someone familiar to me at the Neapolitan court.”  
“And both of us be homesick? Tell me, Lucrezia, are you happy?”

“Yes, yes I am,” her cousin replied, “I am married to someone young, and handsome, and he is consideration itself. The only unhappiness I have is I must leave Giovanni behind, but I knew this might be so. Children of past relationships are never welcome in royal courts, baggage from the past must be left behind.”

“Only Giovanni is not baggage, but Lucrezia, I understand. If I marry into a royal family I would have to leave my beloved Marco behind. You can relax, though, and not have to watch your back. Both you and your husband are bastards, and therefore not in the line of succession. You can rest assured that you, Alfonso, and any children you have will be safe from assassins.”

“That’s a horrible thing to say, but you’re right. There are plenty of machinations going on in the Neapolitan Court, I hear, and it’s a comfort to know I will not have a part to play.”  
Should I tell her about France, Constanzia thought, but decided against it. Cesare would see to her safety, She and Alfonso could be brought to Rome at the first sign of trouble, assuring their safety. Maybe I won’t marry, she thought, and keep myself out of this. But she was a legitimate Borgia heir, and if the Pope found a match for her, she would not be able to refuse.

 

If Cesare had been worried about his reception, his arrival in Marseilles did much to allay his fears. The roar of cannons heralded his arrival, and he spent a week in the city, enjoying what it had to offer, being feted at party after party. After that, he and his baggage train made its way to Chinon, where Louis was holding his court.

His was uncomfortably aware of at least one of Constanzia’s warnings. The French indeed did not seem to approve of his ostentatious display of wealth. But Louis, as she had also said, took a liking to the young Roman. “He’ll recognize your talent,” she had told him, and indeed, Louis was showing him every favor, especially in light of the gift that Cesare bore, the certificate of annulment that would separate him from Joan of France and enable him to marry Anne of Brittany, the widow of Charles VIII.

Joan of France was a kind, pious soul, but she had the misfortune to be plain of face, and to possess a markedly crooked spine. Had she been fertile and born Louis children, it might have saved her but this was not the case.

With the patience of the nun and saint she would become, she accepted her fate and established a convent. Louis married Anne of Brittany four days after his annulment was approved and set about trying to secure a marriage for Cesare to Carlotta Aragona.

With no luck. Louis tried to force the young girl, but she would not yield. “If my father forces me to, I will marry him, but not unless,” implying that her beloved father would not attempt to force her to marry the Roman upstart. Instead, as she knew he would, her father did not attempt to convince her, but supported her instead.

“I will not marry a priest who is a son of a priest,” Carlotta announced, throwing tact aside as she showed her disdain, and furthermore, “Cesare Borgia did not even possess a “drop of royal blood.” Her family was related to the Houses of Aragon and Castile. Even the threat of being sent from the French court would not change her mine, and Louis had to tell Cesare that a union with Naples would not be forthcoming.

As Constanzia advised him, Cesare made certain he did not lose his temper. When Louis suggested a French bride instead, he swallowed his pride and acquiesced. “Who?” he asked and Louis pointed to a dark haired, very beautiful girl.

“Charlotte D’Albret,” he said, “She is the sister of John, King of Navarre and comes from a very good family. Her father was Duke of Guienne, and her mother is related to the new queen. “She had excellent royal connections,” he said, and may be a better match than Carlotta d’Aragona would have been.”

Cesare took a look at her, as if for the first time. She was sixteen and exquisitely beautiful. She looked up at him and smiled with her even white teeth. She was beautiful, her connections good, and Louis was telling him of her piety and good nature. He looked again and decided to take his cousin’s advice. If he could not marry Naples, Navarre would do very well.

That night the betrothal was announced. No one was surprised that it had happened so quickly. He gave to her the exquisite gifts he had brought for Carlotta Aragona, but if she minded, she showed no sign.

 

When Alexander VI received the news he was not happy. He had hoped for a Neapolitan connection, and was not sure what the implications of a French marriage might be for Italy. Still, Cesare was determined and even seemed happy with the match, so in a show of good grace the Pope even sent a Cardinal’s hat for the bride’s brother, Amanieu de Albret.

 

Constanzia sat, reading the letter that Cesare had written to her in the kindest possible terms. She wiped the tears from her eyes, but could not foot Lucrezia, who sat next to her and took her hand.

“She’ll never see Italy, don’t worry cousin. He’ll wed her and bed her, and when she’s sure she’s pregnant, he’ll return to Rome—alone. And when he comes back he’ll see how your pregnancy has progressed and he’ll be happy to see you looking so well and so lovely. Maybe she’ll never have what you were able to give him, a son. A daughter is still an heir, but not the same as a son.”

Constanzia laid her head on Lucrezia’s shoulder. “But she is only sixteen, she’ll be so young and lovely. And she’ll be a virgin, that will be expected of her. When he returns what if he realizes he is tired of me? What if he doesn’t want me anymore? I can’t even marry until after I have this baby.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, he’s always told me that you’re the one woman he could never tire of. This is shocking news, you’ve expected it, you know you have, but actually hearing it is another thing altogether. Wait a few days, you’ll feel better. We’ll hunt tomorrow and have a feast. Ferrante’s beloved daughter will not be married to my brother, so I’m sure he will be in a good mood.”

“Yes, I’m sure you’re right,” Constanzia answered, but somehow she couldn’t shake the image of Charlotte D’Albret sharing Cesare’s bed. Suddenly, she wasn’t sure if she wanted him to come home. He had married France, so let him stay in France. She couldn’t bear the sight of a young, triumphant, Charlotte D’Albret on Cesare’s arm. Surely she did not deserve that.


	24. 1499:  The Campaign for Milan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cesare has married and obtained a promise for an army from Louis. He takes part in the beginning of the campaign to take Milan. Meanwhile, Constanzia and Lucrezia are in Naples, Constanzia agreed to come for a while to help smooth Lucrezia's way. Constanzia is expecting and now Lucrezia has discovered that she is pregnant also. Constanzia has received a letter from Cesare, warning that Alfonso may prove to be an embarrassment for the family, as Cesare's interests are aligned with Louis of France who not only has his eye on Milan, but also has his eyes on Naples. Cesare warns her that Alfonso's future may not be so secure if he does not choose to switch sides

Chapter 24: 1499

I have fudged history a little here. Alfonso did not flee from Spoleto, he fled from Rome. As with the tv show, and history, his days are numbered.

“Lucrezia is no doubt glad of your company, but I wish you were not in Naples, my love.” Constanzia was reading the letter she had just received from Cesare, “Louis intends to invade Milan and has his eye on re-claiming Naples someday. You must be ready to leave when I send you word. When you show her this letter you must tell her not to show it to Alfonso. When she has finished reading it, burn it.”

She stood up, rubbing the small of her back. Her pregnancy was more advanced now and she was grateful that the bulky skirts of her gowns hid her growing belly. And she suspected that she had underestimated just how pregnant she was. Lucrezia, too, was expecting and she and Alfonso were delighted. She had missed Giovanni sorely, and though this baby would not make up for his loss, it would provide some consolation.

And Charlotte D’Albret was pregnant too. Cesare had been careful not to rejoice over it in his letter, but instead had inquired after her health and the progress of her pregnancy. And told her that he would be accompanying Louis on his campaign to take Milan.

“I will talk to the Holy Father,” he’d said, “and ask where you should take refuge. I think he will suggest Spoleto. When this campaign is over, it will only be a short journey back to Rome. I hope that is where you will have our child, not Naples. And Constanzia, if Alfonso is not willing to show us his support, I cannot vouch for his safety. He is married to the daughter of the Pope and his loyalty should be with Rome, not Naples. And if anyone there treats you or Lucrezia with any discourtesy, they will answer to me.” He had closed by wishing her his faithful and undying love.

Her reception in Naples had at first been friendly, but as her pregnancy progressed, there had been a definite cooling towards her. There were a few, some in Ferrante’s family, who openly courted her. She was The widow of Calvino Pallavicini, and related to the wife of Alfonso. Once her baby arrived, it could be sent back to Rome. Marco would meet the same fate as his as yet unborn brother or sister.

She did not like these Neapolitans, these arrogant Spaniards who ruled the city. They considered the Genoans uncouth, but she’d been far happier in Genoa than she was here. She would be glad when Louis raided Milan, she decided, for Naples would certainly follow. She and Lucrezia would be responsible for seeing to the safety of their cousins, and she hoped, as Cesare had expressed, that Alfonso would have the sense to switch to the winning side. She had no doubt what Alfonso’s fate would be if he displeased Cesare.

She remembered how much she had loved her cousin, but lately she felt like there were times when she hardly knew him. She realized they were Spaniards, and could be ruthless, killing without a second thought anyone who stood in their way. But she was having trouble reconciling this with the man she loved. It was the Borgia ambition, she decided, Lucrezia had it, Juan had had it—Gioffre she did not know about, she did not know him at all, she corrected herself.

She sat down on a bench as she felt the baby begin to kick. She could not think of a French invasion right now, all she wanted was to have her baby and leave Naples. Cesare would take care of her, he always did.

Lucrezia sat next to, dipping her fingers into the water of the fountain. “May I read your letter from Cesare?”

Constanzia handed it to her, “I warn you, you may not like all he has to say. What did he say in yours?”

“Oh, not much, as always. Asking after my health, and my pregnancy. Telling me about his wedding, which I hope he spared you. And giving me his dearest love.” She squeezed Constanzia’s hand.

“He did, he knows I do not want to hear about it. But he did tell me she was pregnant, but I don’t care. My son may be a bastard, but he’s a Borgia bastard. Hers will be his heir, but that does not matter to me. To the world Marco’s a Pallavicini, and he will have a handsome inheritance. There are things that he told me that concern me more. Please read the letter now, we should talk.”

Lucrezia’s pretty forehead puckered as she skimmed the letter. She laid it down on her lap, indignant. “What does he mean about Alfonso? He knows I’ve married into the Neapolitan royal family, this is where my loyalty lies.”

“Not anymore, not to Cesare. He’s aligned us, and the papacy to France. Even your father is singing France’s praises. If Alfonso doesn’t side with Cesare’s interests and come out and support him, that will not bode well for him. You should know, you’re much more political than I am, so you should understand this. Cesare’s loyalty is to Louis and France now, or at least it has to seem that way. He wants an empire, and with Louis and your father’s help he means to get one.

She shook her head, “I think he is overreaching, he sees himself as an Alexander, no, a Julius Caesar. Lucrezia, Louis will go on campaign to take Milan, and if ‘Il Moro’ is the coward I think he is, he will flee and Louis will have Milan without a fight. There will be battles over the summer, and someday it will culminate with Naples going to the French. You are going to be five months pregnant in August and by that time I will have not one, but two small children to look after. Tell Alfonso to offer his services to Cesare, otherwise I am afraid you will lose your husband.”

Lucrezia stood up and threw the letter on her lap. “How can you say this to me?” but Constanzia grabbed her wrist.

“Listen to me, little fool, whether it’s France or Spain, Naples is doomed. Louis has hereditary ties to Naples, much stronger than Alfonso’s family. Louis wants to take back the lands France lost, and Cesare sees this as his means to establish himself. We’re pawns, Lucrezia, you and I. If it suits Cesare’s purposes, he’ll get rid of Alfonso so that he can procure a more advantageous match for you. You say you love Alfonso? Well, there would have been no marriage to him if the Pope had not willed it. I suspect Alfonso’s days are numbered unless you can convince him to join Cesare—now. Open your eyes, please!”

“I don’t believe you,” Lucrezia said coldly, and left her. 

When she became upset, the baby would start kicking; and now she realized how precarious her situation lay. She hoped the pregnancy was more advanced than she had thought at first. Louis would begin campaigning soon, and she might find herself having the baby as the French were approaching Naples.

She put her hand on her belly, “You must grow quickly and come soon. We will have a journey to make and if you come while we are on the road, I may lose you. Your father would not like that, it would make him very sad, so you must get here soon, little one.”

But she came the following week, tiny and perfectly formed, but she only had the strength to live one day. Constanzia named her “Maria Lucrezia Vanozza” and gave her the last name of Borgia. She held her until the tiny body cooled and Carmilla took her away. She was buried in the crypt where the Bisceglies were buried, at the request of Lucrezia. Later, they could take her back to Rome.

She and Lucrezia held hands through the funeral mass. “Do you think she’s in heaven?” asked Lucrezia, “She was so tiny and innocent that she cannot be in purgatory.”

“If I believed in such things, but Cesare and I don’t. Don’t tell Uncle, but I think he knows.” Or at least he knew about Cesare, she thought. She squeezed Lucrezia’s hand, “I think I stopped believing when I found myself forgiving Cesare for killing Calvino. If there is a heaven, that is where my little Maria is. Maybe she should never have been born. “Don’t worry for your baby, your little ‘Rodrigo’ will be fine.” But maybe not Alphonso, she thought grimly. 

 

But, the gods were with her and Louis did not invade Milan until late September. In August, Sancia and Giofre met them in Naples, and along with Alfonso, they made the journey to Spoleto where Lucrezia could pass the time in cooler air and comfort until they returned to Rome. The Pope appointed his daughter governor, and she proved herself to be an able administrator, even to the skeptical populace. 

Unfortunately, Alfonso chose to abandon Spoleto and his pregnant wife and return to Naples. Lucrezia started fretting and crying; Gioffre asked if he might pursue him for her. Evidently hearing that the French were approaching Milan was too much for him. When Louis made his triumphant entry into Milan, Alfonso decided to return to Spoleto, much to the relief of his very pregnant wife.

p>First the city of Alessandria was besieged, then they capitulated, and other cities soon followed rather than suffer the same fate. The surrender of Milan became a fait accompli, and the French marched victorious into the city. When the treasuries were opened, it was discovered that they were emptied—and in the hands of Ludovico Sforza who had fled ahead of their arrival. But Louis could now fancy himself “King of the Franks, Duke of Milan.” As he had now fulfilled his obligation, Cesare would now be awarded his army.

Cesare made a secret visit to Rome in mid November to confer with the Holy Father, and comforted Constanzia over the loss of their daughter. “Do not worry, Querida,” he whispered in her ear, “When the time is right, we will have our little girl.” But both of them knew that Charlotte D’Albret was experiencing a healthy pregnancy, and with the birth of her child, Cesare would have his heir.

Lucrezia had delivered a healthy baby boy on the first of November. Now that Cesare was at her side, Constanzia found that she was happier for her than she expected. It was better that she had miscarried, the practical part of her told herself, there was no reason she could refuse a marriage if the Pope proposed one, and now there would be no bastard to account for if he did. A marriage would come, it could not be helped, she just hoped she could have some time.

Best of all was Cesare in her bed once more. He would have to leave again, but the time would come when he could start empire building for himself. “I’ll set you up and you can govern a city for your own.” He lay stretched out on her bed, naked, inviting her lay beside him. “Say Cesena or Imola.”

“Perhaps I would like Forli. You do plan to bring the Tigress down, don’t you?” She wrapped herself around him as if she could prevent him from leaving.

“Soon, soon I will. I am young, I am strong, I have the backing of Louis and the Holy Father, who would also like to see her brought down. I have plans for Caterina Sforza that I have been waiting to put into place. When she is out of the way I am going to build my empire in the Romagna.”  
“With Charlotte at your side?” She pushed away from him.

“If so, it would be for appearances only; you know I love only you.”

“And Lucrezia, but I would gladly share your heart with her.” Do I really mean this, she thought? “I love her, too.” She paused for a moment, “What about Alfonso?”

“If he can convince me he is willing to support us and not Naples, he will have nothing to fear. Her marriage may prove to be an embarrassment if he does not.”

“She loves him, Cesare, she even forgave him when he abandoned her in Spoleto.”

“What?” He sat up, “Tell me what happened.”

“Evidently he has developed a fear of all things French and Roman. He’s afraid, and it’s his own fault. All he needed to do was show some loyalty to you and be willing to align himself with the French. Evidently France is the great Satan and you are his minion. I think he is afraid that his family will lose their hold on Naples.”

“They will, it’s just a matter of time. Father has come around, and I can always count on you. Perhaps I will do as Father does with Lucrezia and make you a governor, it is time you stop holding yourself back. You are the ultimate diplomat, and you are always willing to learn. You were wasted on Calvino Pallavicini, you are capable of so much more. If I seem too harsh and unapproachable you know how best to intercede for me.”

“What will I do if I become pregnant again?”

“You can still do it. I’ll send Micheletto to help you out. He may be lost with no one to kill, but he is loyal to you as he is to me. Now come and love me, I must leave day after tomorrow and it will be a while before I see you again. Love me, Constanzia.”


	25. Da Vida Nuova

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cesare is leaving room and is about to mount the first campaign of his own. Caterina Sforza-Riaro has anticipated an attack and sent the Pope a letter that has been contaminated by the plague. Her target is the Pope, but she has been thwarted. In the mean time Constanzia has other things on her mind: Is Cesare going to bring his new wife and child to Rome?
> 
> Trying to talk Caterina has accomplished nothing, and his army bombards the fortress of Forli until the cannons blow a big enough hole in the walls to admit Cesare's armies. Many lose their lives but Caterina Sforza survives--to find herself a captive of another sort, for Cesare is holding her prisoner and more in his tent

Cesare’s escort, thirteen hundred strong, wondered how he would manage both new wife and mistress. 

Of course, Charlotte D’Albret was none of her concern, but it was well known that the Lady Constanzia was both demanding and forthright. And beautiful. As lovely and as young as the new Duchess was, she would be no match for Cesare’s Spanish cousin. If he was smart, said a few, he would leave his wife in France lest she cross his mistress in Rome.

The Duke Valentino seemed to be unconcerned. Cesare was wondering if he dare push his cousin into an alcove and raise her skirts and have her just before he left. He did not know how long the campaign for Forli would be, and each time he was away from Constanzia, on his return, he would notice, as if for the first time, just how beautiful and desirable she was. Just standing in her embrace, as he was now, he could feel himself hardening and his lust growing so intense that he almost could not bear it.

She pushed him away as if she knew his thoughts, which she often did. Cesare had matured with his new responsibilities and he was proving to the Pope that he was a leader of men. He was wearing black velvet, and it suited him more than the gaudier silks he had once favored. The collar of Saint Michael fastened around his neck was his only ornament, and the severity of his garments suited him.

She fingered his dark brown curls, so soft and silky to the touch. He was indeed the handsomest man in Italy, just as she was one of the most beautiful and desirable women in Rome. They made a beautiful pair, said Lucrezia, and confided to her that Cesare had told her that he was going to confront his father with the fact that he and Constanzia were lovers of long standing. He was tired of hiding, he said, it was time to come out into the open, and when he returned from his campaign in Forli he would do just that.

There was something, however, that he had been keeping from her. She had yet to learn that he was going to try to bring Charlotte to Rome. It was only natural that he should want his wife and daughter at his side. He had married royalty and that would add to his status, and maybe overcome the taint of being the pope’s bastard. If Charlotte did come to Rome and made the mistake of trying to banish Constanzia, it would not have the results she desired. She would fight for her rightful place and Charlotte would have to accept her. After all, men with beautiful wives still had mistresses, and Cesare was well known for his love of the fair sex.

Cesare did not know Constanzia had something different on her mind. News of the conduct of his troops had reached her ears. She had found out that the cities he had conquered had been subjected to looting, killing, and, worst of all. to her, rape.

“He says it is better that people learn to fear him, Madonna,” Giulio, the young lieutenant she had taken under her wing told her. “He says the violence is being done by the French troops anyway, and he has no authority over them, which is not true. It is horrible, Madonna, just horrible.”

She slipped five gold ducats into his gloved hand. “Never mind that, you are just doing as I wish. I cannot control him so I don’t try. You keep your eyes on him and make him trust you. Perhaps someday we could have you made a captain, yes? Think about it and when you return from the campaign you let me know.” He bowed and left.

She looked up at Cesare, kissed him, “Do you have to leave, my love? I know your men are waiting just outside the gate, but could you not tarry?

“I would rather remain here, my love, but you know I cannot. Tell me again, which city in the Romagna shall I make yours?”

“Forli, of course,” she laughed, “Instead of a tiger, they shall have a queen. But truly, my love, I shall be happy to be wherever you are, free from the yoke of Rome. I am so tired of hiding.”

“I understand, but you are safer in Rome, along with our son. And now I truly must leave. I will send a letter to you when I send dispatches to father.” He put his hand gently on her belly, “Maybe we’ve made a child this time, another girl to replace the one we lost.” He gave her one last kiss and summoning Micheletto, he disappeared through the gate.

Carmilla had her bath ready, and breakfast for when she was ready to eat it. Constanzia sank gratefully into the tub as Carmilla loosened her hair and began to pour warm water through it. 

“How long will he be gone this time, my lady?” she asked.

“I don’t know, maybe months. I am grateful that Lucrezia and Alfonzo are here, it won’t be so lonely. And Marco will have Rodrigo to play with, instead of servant’s children. I know Cesare is a soldier, it is what he has wanted all his life, but I hate it when he leaves. He has had more luck on the battlefield than many, so I am not anxious for his return, it’s just that he is keeping so much from me.” She squeezed her eyes shut for a moment, then opened them, “I am hearing rumors that he wants to bring Charlotte D’Albret here, and her daughter. That I would find unbearable.”

“I understand, but perhaps Louis will not be so willing to comply? Think of it, he likes the Lord Valentino, but maybe he does not trust him. Perhaps he will keep them in France as hostages, though he will not put it like that. Do not fear, perhaps Charlotte D’Albret will never see the shores of Italy, and you can concentrate on his next mistress, instead.”  
“Oh, that. It will be some courtesan, I am sure. I have been thinking, Carmilla, maybe it is time for me to marry again. What would you say to that?”

“Who would it be, my lady?” Carmilla poured more hot water into the tub. The right marriage would be perfect. Constanzia would be out of Cesare’s reach, and have the children she longed to have. She was still beautiful, and would be more than eligible in the marriage market. If Cesare would be willing to let her go, that is.

“I don’t know, maybe Cesare can find someone in the Romagna, as long as it is not someone from his ragged band of condottieri. No, I want someone who is stable, who will not one day be suspected as a traitor. He must have a secure position and wealth, and be as far from the fighting as possible. I long for peace, I don’t want a husband I must constantly send off to war.”

“And be young and handsome?” Carmilla teased.

“Well, that would not hurt.” Constanzia agreed, “And keep the number of his mistresses to a minimum. I am not inclined to stray, but if Cesare takes one more new mistress, I may change my mind.”

The Pope had decided that it was time to bring down Caterina Riario. The “Tigress of Forli” was a formidable character, tall, strong, and strikingly beautiful. And bold. Anticipating action from Rome she had sent the Pope a letter infected with the plague and hidden in a cane tube. Her gambit failed, but as the villages of Imola and Forli fell, she retreated to the fortress with its ten-foot-thick walls. She could be seen on the battlements, dressed in armor, her red hair shining like fire in the sun. This was a woman who would not easily give up.

This was Cesare’s first campaign on his own, but he had experienced commanders on his side, such as Vitellozzo Vitelli, who was eager to avenge the death of his brother Paolo. The Sforza was an ally of Florence, he told Cesare, and Florence was not to be trusted.

“She’s playing for time, my lord,” Vitelli told him, “She’s up to something, maybe she hopes that the letter she sent to His Holiness will have had its desired effect.”  
“I’m going to give her one chance, and if she will not surrender, blow this place to hell, Vitellozzo.”

He rode up to the castle walls in full armor, and offered her compensation for the lands she would lose, and safe passage, in the name of the pope.

“I don’t trust you, any more than I trust the Spanish Pope your father. I’ll take my chance behind my walls.”

“Have it your way, then,” he told her, and turned his horse around. It had to be this way, but looking at her, tall, brave, beautiful, and defiant, he almost wished it could be different. He rode away to where Vitelli awaited him. 

“Do it,” he said, and the shelling began. The cannons bombarded the castle walls day and night, until on January 12, 1500 a breach was opened in the walls large enough to admit Cesare’s Swiss and German troops. What ensued was nothing left than a slaughter, Caterina Sforza, the Tigress of Forli herself, was captured by Yves D’Alegre, who argued with Cesare over whose charge she should be in.

A game of dice decided the outcome, and Cesare took his unwilling captive, struggling and fighting all the way to his tent.

Cesare and D’Alegre watched the spectacle with amusement. Louis XII’s general, the Milanese Gian Jacopo Trivulzio called out roguishly. “Madame, now you will not lack for fucking!” And they burst into laughter.

“Go to hell, all of you,” growled Cesare and followed as Caterina was led to his tent.

She was shackled to the bed, the fight gone out of her, but no less defiant. He took the key from his pocket, and unlocked the cuffs that held her wrists. She looked up at him as she rubbed her wrists, fearful because he was saying nothing.

Suddenly he grabbed her shoulders and pushed her over to his bed. She found herself easily lifted onto his silk curtained bed, although she was no small woman. And, despite her good intentions to thwart him, she could not stop him when he had his way with her.

When he had his fill of her, he lay back down, and she in turned looked closely at him, noting how handsome he was. She’d heard rumors of a cousin he was supposedly having an affair with, and wondered what she was like, and how she managed to hold onto him.

He sat up, and dressed, warning her that even though he was leaving there were guards placed outside the door. She shrugged her shoulders, she was a warrior and this was the way of war. She, of course, would attempt to escape at the soonest opportunity. “Or not,” she thought grimly, Cesare was turning out to be more formidable than she might think him.


	26. Triumph and Tragedy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cesare bids farewell to 6 weeks with Caterina Sforza, and returns in triumph to Rome, where his father greets him with a grand celebration. He has his own celebration with Constanzia. Meanwhile, the growing tension between Cesare and Alfonso erupts the his assassin, Micheletto, takes care of the problem--permanently. Lucrezia is plunged into grief at what has happened

The story of Alfonso’s murder is more or less accurate. Burchard said in his journal that . Alfonso had been strangled. So much for anyone who got in Cesare’s way.  
Caterina Sforza really did spend six weeks with Cesare, though she resisted (at first) She was known for having a penchant for handsome younger men, and Cesare was certainly that.

The Tigress of Forli stretched and smiled as she watched her young lover rouse himself. She pushed herself up on one elbow, and rested her head in her hand, looking very appealing.

“Well, my lord, this has been very pleasurable, and will no doubt become the stuff of legend, but what are you planning to do with me, and when? If I’m to face a dungeon, I need time to steel myself for it.”

Cesare playfully smacked her thigh. “Not quite a dungeon, I am having rooms prepared for you in the Castel Sant’Angelo. We should be in Rome in a week.”

“That sounds rather dull, shut in a room, none of my friends from the Romagna. And I will miss my boys and my falcon.”

“Behave yourself, and it won’t be so bad. And there will be friends to make in Rome, you have quite the reputation and will no doubt become a notorious celebrity. If you prove you can be trusted, you might be taken hawking. And we have to replenish your wardrobe.” He laughed at the pout she wore on her face, “Cheer up, you will probably escape, or someone will ransom you, or ask to take you off his Holiness’s hands. The worst you face is learning to live a tame life.”

“It’s just as well, young Spaniard, you’ve left my lands in quite the mess. You must tell my children how to find me, surely you wouldn’t begrudge me them!”

“Perhaps not.” Cesare looked at her, and thought again about the six weeks they had spent together. She was the most extraordinary woman he’d ever met. If Lucrezia and Constanzia had been the standard for women in his life, Caterina Sforza had set a new bar. Her body was not so lovely as theirs, nor her face as young and fresh, but this was a formidable woman. The time they had spent together had been a privilege, and even worth the knowing looks his men would give him when they thought he was not looking.

But he wouldn’t mind handing her off to the keeper of the Castel, and get her off his hands. If she displayed good sense, she would live in comfort and be allowed a few privileges. He did not think for a moment, though, that she would be trustworthy. There were advantages to being a member of the nobility, as long as you played by the rules, and did not try to escape. If you did you better be successful, or the penalty could be severe. He fully expected that Caterina would try to escape, and God help her if she was caught.

“Perhaps I should march her in golden chains through Rome, like Augustus wanted to do with Cleopatra—not that she would stand for it. God she’s magnificent, a pain to deal with, but she’s been worth it. I wish her the best because she will need it, I think Father will be less inclined to indulge her than I am.”

In truth, he was ready to return to Rome, and the reception that awaited him from the Holy Father. No doubt a triumph would be his reward for capturing both Forli and the notorious Caterina Sforza.

“I’ve proved myself to him,” he said to himself, “He will have to acknowledge my accomplishments, for I have earned it. Father, you know now I am the better son. I will send for my wife and daughter and install them in Rome. Lucrezia and Constanzia can make her feel at home. I will try and get Charlotte pregnant again, and maybe this time it will be a son. God has chosen to shower his blessings upon me, and I am going to enjoy it.”

 

The blessings became apparent as he approached the gates of Rome. The entire consistory, mounted on mules, was waiting to escort him into the city. Giofre, and Alfonso, too, were there, and rode on either side of him, waving to the crowd, who enjoyed seeing the sight of the three attractive young dukes. One hundred of his grooms wore black velvet capes, and followed behind him, then horses and mules carrying his plunder. Then came Vitellozzo Vitelli, his condottieri, and the infantry.

All in all, it was very impressive and grand. The pope awaited him on a balcony, Lucrezia, Constanzia, and Sancia at his side. They were clad in white and gold, each looking very lovely and desirable.

Cesare kissed his father on his right hand and both his feet, to the applause of the crowd. He stood and waved, then took “his girls” into his arms and kissed each on the lips, and the party disappeared into the Vatican. The show over for day and it had been an unwarranted success.

That night a feast was held honoring the Duke Valentino. After the interminable parade of courses ended, the Pope’s children and their cousin indulged in one of their passions—dancing. They danced until the first rays of sunrise began to show through the windows.

Cesare grabbed Constanzia’s hand and led her to his rooms. “I want to fuck you, madam,” he whispered in her ear, “I have not seen you in months, so many months that I can barely restrain myself from tearing your gown off that lovely body.” He put his mouth on her bare shoulders, and began to undo her laces. When he had disrobed her, he lifted her up and lay her on his bed.

She watched as he removed his clothes, then closed her eyes as he lay down next to her. He tormented her with his fingers and mouth, remembering each little place on her body that, when touched, could drive her to madness.

She cried out as he entered her, then released all control as he began to move, driving her crazier, making her hungrier. He pulled the pins out of her hair, and took two great handfuls of it, smelling the oils she had used to perfume it.

“Who do you love, querida?” he asked her, “Whom do you belong to?”

“You, oh you. Oh, please, give me release,” she begged, “Before I go mad!"

He smiled his wicked smile, as his body betrayed him. He let go, and released both from the fire that threatened to burn them. He held her close to him, feeling like he had come home. He may be married to royalty, but Constanzia held his heart, was eternally his as he was hers.

The next day the city celebrated Carnival, and Alexander VI bestowed the order of the Golden Rose upon his now beloved son. Cesare, with his love of pomp and circumstance, again paraded through the city with his army, to the adoration of the crowd.

Then came the not so good news. Ludovico Sforza returned to Milan and took back his beloved city on February sixth, to the cheering of the populace. Cesar and Alexander did not pay it much mind, being confident that Louis would be able to re-take it—and get Ludovico Sforza out of the way.

It was now fifteen hundred, the year of Jubilee. Saint Peter’s door would be opened and the Vatican was pre-occupied with preparations, so no one noticed how unhappy Lucrezia had become. No one but Constanzia.

There was clear strife between Cesare and Alfonso, and their quarrels were growing more frequent. Cesare expected Alfonso’s allegiance, but Alfonso the son of Naples, was not inclined to oblige. Lucrezia felt herself caught between the husband she loved and the brother she loved. Though she was in agony, torn between the two, no one seemed to care how she felt.

She took refuge in Constanzia’s house, bringing little Giovanni and Rodrigo to play with their cousin Marco. There she felt free to unburden herself to Constanzia, who would listen to her patiently, then remind her that she must have known this was coming. Cesare expected that Alfonso would throw in his loyalty with him, and she had warned Lucrezia this was coming.

“No one cares how I feel,” Lucrezia wailed, “No one has any sympathy for me.”

“I sympathize,” Constanzia told her gently, “I know how you feel. I have to live with the fact that Cesare killed my husband.”

Lucrezia put her hands over her mouth, her eyes widened and she asked, “How can you forgive him?”

“I have his child, I have loved him since childhood. If I cut him out of my life, where would I be? God help me, Lucrezia, but I do love him. I have to accept him as he is, or I shall go mad.”

“Do you think he would kill Alfonso?” Lucrezia asked.

“Yes, I do,” Constanzia replied, “Alfonso’s Neapolitan connections are now worthless. The pope was scheming to put Cesare on the throne of Naples, but Carlotta Aragona would not have him, so he had to set his plans aside. You’re a valuable pawn in the marriage market, Lucrezia, if something were to happen to Alfonso, I would not be surprised if they were already planning matches.” She drew Lucrezia into her arms. “I feel so sorry for you, you have so little control over your fate. Tell Alfonso to be careful, he’s a marked man, Lucrezia. Unless he is willing to change, I fear that he will not survive the summer.”

On July twenty ninth, a storm blew up, high winds accompanied by large hailstones pounded the Vatican, and caused damage. The Pope narrowly escaped with minor injuries, but for a short time rumors flew about the city that the Pope was dead.

As if this were a portent, two weeks later, Alfonso was attacked after dining with the pope at the Vatican one evening. A group of thugs set upon him, and when they were finished, he was barely able to crawl up the Vatican steps.

Lucrezia fainted at the sight of her husband covered in blood. He had gashes to his head and shoulder, either of which could be fatal, the doctor warned. She and Sancia nursed him around the clock, and though it seemed touch and go, slowly, he began to improve and Lucrezia rejoiced, believing that he was out of danger. But she forgot Constanzia’s warnings about Cesare.

Rumors were flying about Rome that Cesare had indeed been responsible for the attack on Alfonso. In typical manner, Alexander VI told the Venetian ambassador that if Cesare were indeed responsible for the attack, Alfonso had most likely deserved it. The ambassador, a relative of Constanzia’s, had relayed this to her, and she had to be restrained from confronting the pope herself  
.  
“Imagine the nerve,” she had said to Sancia, making sure that Lucrezia could not hear, “He all but said he sanctioned this attack upon your brother. How dare he? Sancia, they want Alfonso out of the way so that they can arrange a new marriage for Lucrezia and a new alliance for Rome.” She did not need to say who “they” were. She was furious with Cesare, and did not know how to confront him the next time they saw each other. Cesare had killed her husband, and now he was going to kill Lucrezia’s, and there was nothing she could do about it.

August 18, Alfonso was doing much better but was still confined to his bed. It was evening and he was talking with his uncle, the Neapolitan ambassador, Sancia and his wife when Micheletto suddenly appeared, along with some of the guards.

“I have come to arrest Ferdinand D’Aragona,” he announced, and advanced towards the bed, but Lucrezia sprang up to stop him.

“Micheletto, what? Why?” asked Lucrezia, thoroughly confused, “Why do you disturb my husband in his sick bed?”

“There has been a threat on Lord Cesare’s life. As a precaution, we are taking into custody all strangers and suspicious people.”

“Surely my brother cannot suspect that my husband’s family would make an attempt upon his life? This cannot be right, Micheletto.”

“My lady, why do you not go find his Holiness and see if this matter cannot be straightened out?” Micheletto stood there, unmovable as a rock.”  
“I’m going to do just that,” Lucrezia said coldly and took Sancia by the hand, casting one last glance at Alfonso lying in bed. Suddenly she had the feeling that it may be the last time she would see him alive  
.  
Sancia was upset, but thinking clearly. “Lucrezia, go to your father, I am going to find Constanzia. If anyone can handle Micheletto, it’s her. He won’t dare hurt her, Cesare would kill him. I am afraid, Lucrezia, afraid. Something is terribly wrong.”

She ran to the stables and had her horse saddled. Though she rode at a swift gallop, her progress seemed painfully slow, and she was grateful when she reached Constanzia’s villa. She dismounted her horse and ran inside, hoping that Constanzia was at home.

“Sancia, what is wrong?” Constanzia took her by the arms, “I can tell by your face you are frightened. What has happened?"

“Alfonso,” Sancia tried not to stumble over her words. “We were visiting him when Micheletto suddenly appeared, saying that he had to arrest my uncle. He told Lucrezia to find the pope so it could be straightened out, but she told me to come here and find you.”

“You left Alfonso alone with Micheletto? Foolish girls, he’s as good as dead, if he isn’t already. Let me have my horse saddled and I will see if I can take care of this.” Constanzia went to a drawer and opened it, then clicked a button and revealed a hiding place underneath it. She drew out a stiletto which she placed in her bodice.

“Madame, are you not afraid of Micheletto? I know his reputation, he is Cesare’s assassin.” Sancia’s voice was rising as her panic grew.

“Yes, Sancia, I am,” Constanzia answered, “But Micheletto is also afraid of me. He knows better than to come between Cesare and me. If he kills me, Cesare will kill him, and I do not think he is ready to embrace death, not yet.”

When they reached the Vatican, they found the doors locked against them. Lucrezia was standing and looking helpless. “They told me he’s dead, that he tore open his wounds. That can’t be so, but what can I do?”

Constanzia drew the stiletto out of her bodice, and shoved it against Micheletto’s stomach. “Open the damn door, Micheletto, or I’ll kill you. Cesare will forgive me, but if you hurt me he won’t forgive you, now will he? We both know whom he’ll choose. Now open that door or I’ll be forced to commit the first murder of my life.”

If you like this, please leave a comment or kudos!!. I wonder if I’m still being read!


	27. Lucrezia's Retreat to Nepi

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alfonzo is buried at midnight, and Lucrezia retreats to Nepi to escape Rome. Constanzia comes with her, bring their children. Constanzia and Cesare have the most serious fight of their lives, so she is glad to be away from him. She also finds out that he is joining Louis XII in his campaign to conquer Naples

As if to hide their shameful act, Alfonso was buried at midnight in the church of Santa Maria Della Febbre. Lucrezia could not be dissuaded from attending; Constanzia and Sancia had to stand on either side of her, holding her up while she wept through the funeral mass. She knelt on the edge of the grave, calling his name while his coffin was lowered into the ground. Then she took to her bed while maids packed her luggage for her intended trip to Nepi.

“Will you go to Nepi with her?” Sancia asked, “I truly am worried for her. I am afraid she might harm herself if she is left on her own.”

“I have no intention of leaving her,” Constanzia answered, “I must get away from here, I am afraid my anger will cause me to do something foolish. “

She sat on the side of Lucrezia’s bed, holding her hand. “Let me go with you,” Constanzia begged, “I worry for you, you should have someone you know accompany you. Besides, I need to escape Rome, I cannot bear to look at Cesare, each time I do I am reminded of what he’s done.”

And she could not. Cesare had insisted that his acts were justified, had Alfonso not fired a bolt from a cross bow at him as he strolled in the gardens?

“Then it’s too bad he missed, I might have been a better shot. How could you, Cesare? You murder my husband, you murder Lucrezia’s. And all for ambition! You have broken your sister’s heart, and all you can say is you were justified? Tell me, cousin, now that she is free, who are you and uncle going to marry her to next?”

“Have I been away so long that you defy me?” Cesare took her by the shoulders and shook her, hard. “Perhaps you need a little lesson in obedience, yes?” She could smell the wine on his breath as he pushed her to the bed, and though she struggled as hard as she could, his strength overwhelmed her. He lay her down on the bed, and began to push her skirts up, slapping her face hard when she succeeded in kicking him.

“If you want to go to Nepi with Lucrezia, do not fight me.” He took her roughly, tearing her bodice, having her as hard as he could. He bit her breasts, making her cry out in pain, and at last she yielded to him and let him take whatever he wanted.

When he finished with her, she sat up. “I am going to Nepi, whatever you say. And you should be ashamed of what you’ve done,” though she knew he was not.

He bowed to her and blew her a kiss, his action making her careless. “Go see your new mistress, Fiametta De Michelis then, and listen to page after page of Ovid and Plutarch. At least I didn’t make my fortune laying on my back.” Cesare slammed the door.

Like his son, Alexander VI showed no sympathy towards his daughter,” She’s barely twenty years old and has everything to live for. This crying and moping needs to stop. And besides, Cesare was certainly justified in doing what he did—after all, Alfonso did try to kill him. She should leave if she can’t appreciate that.”

Carmilla packed her mistress’ trunk with things both she and Marco would need. If Lucrezia could no longer abide the Vatican, neither could she remain in the house Cesare had given to her. Like Lucrezia, she wanted to escape Rome, and Nepi would be the perfect escape.

Cesare gave Constanzia a parting gift—a ruby necklace. She knew it was not an apology, but an admonishment, and she resented it. But the necklace was particularly beautiful and Cesare knew her fondness for rubies. They would call this a draw, then. Neither would apologize, but both knew that Cesare would find his way back into her bed when she returned to Rome.

She not know until later that Cesare had received a letter from his wife saying Louis had refused her request to come to Rome. His excuse was that the roads were too treacherous for Charlotte and her infant daughter to travel. It was not hard to guess that Charlotte was being kept as a hostage lest his upstart Roman protégé step beyond accepted bounds. Louis, then, was taking no chances.

Their train was small. Lucrezia took only six retainers with her, Constanzia brought Carmilla and two other members of household. The babies travelled in a litter with their nurses, but Constanzia and Lucrezia chose to ride. Lucrezia was silent for most of the journey and Constanzia did not try to engage her. The atmosphere of the party was strained, and all breathed a sigh of relief when they reached Nepi  
.  
The Pope had spent twenty four thousand ducats for the town of Sermoneta, and increased fortifications, ensuring that Lucrezia’s castle in Nepi would be safe. It had originally been given to Cardinal Sforza, but when he fled, his seat in the consistory given to another and the Pope had given Nepi to his daughter. It was Lucrezia’s now, and was providing her a refuge away from all her bad memories.

Lucrezia did not assume the administration of the town as she had in the past, she wanted only peace and quiet. She and Constanzia would sit with their children in the sunny courtyard and watch them play. Marco had learned to run, though his unsteady toddler’s legs often failed him, and he would fall on his bottom and wail for his nurse. Rodrigo would sit on his mother’s lap, playing with her necklace or the locks of her long, blond hair. All in all, it was exactly what both women wanted, a place where Rome did not exist, even though it was only twenty five miles away  
.  
Two weeks after their arrival, Constanzia received a note from one of her spies. “My lady,” it read, “Baron de Trans arrived in Rome and stayed at an inn outside the city walls. A rider, wearing a leather mask, arrived at the inn and spoke to the Baron. They say it was the Duke Valentino.”

She sighed and crumpled the paper and was going to throw it on the ground when Lucrezia held out her hand. “May I?” she asked, and Constanzia handed it to her. She read it, and frowned, “What does this mean cousin?”

“It means, Cousin, that Louis is preparing to go to war. He re-took Milan and it is now safely in his hands. I fear that he has his eye on Naples, and worse, Cesare plans to help him in his endeavor.” And so Cesare goes off to war again, she sighed.

“And Naples will be in French hands, and they’ll marry one or both of us off to obtain alliances. I do not want to marry again, look at what happened to both my husbands! Giovanni Sforza was humiliated and had to flee Rome because Cesare planned to kill him. And he killed my Alfonso, I am bad luck for husbands. I will not marry, not if I can help it.”

“I would not feel so sorry for Giovanni Sforza if I were you. He did everything he could to ruin your reputation—where do you think these allegations of incest come from, anyway? For myself, I do not know how my relationship with Cesare has been kept quiet for so long—I wonder how many hidden bodies will never be found. I would like to separate Micheletto from him, but I don’t know how I could do it.” 

“Well, dearest cousin, there will be no talk of husbands while we are here. I wish I could forbid news of Cesare’s campaign, I have had enough of bloodshed. I am sure that Father will send us news, he takes pleasure in such things. Let us just enjoy Nepi and our privacy for as long as it lasts.”

Their peace lasted for months. In December the pope sent an escort for them to bring them home so that they might be back in Rome for the Christmas festivities. Lucrezia was reluctant to return to Rome. Here she had been free to order prayers to be said for Alfonso, without incurring her father’s displeasure. The time she spent in Nepi had helped to assuage her grief.

Cesare had sent along a letter asking Constanzia to come to him in Cesena, one of his conquered cities in the Romagna, but she had refused. Instead she spent Christmas in Rome, as far away from him as she could. While in Nepi, she had been relieved to discover she was not pregnant again, for she could not bear the thought of having Cesare’s child. Let the time pass, she thought, let him stay where he is and play at soldier. I have not forgiven him for I cannot. When Lucrezia forgives him, then I will too.


	28. A Marriage to Ferrara

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lucrezia returns to Rome, only to discover that her father is considering yet another marriage for her. She and Constanzia confide to each other that they have reconciled with Cesare. The fiancé in question, Alfonso D'Este is not thrilled about the marriage, but it will be advantageous to the family--a nearly 400,000 ducats in cash, jewels and household goods. WE find out a little just what kind of a man Alfonso is. Constanzia offers to go to Ferrara with Lucrezia, and her offer is gratefully accepted

If anyone is curious, this is the name of the two books (as well as info I’ve googled) that I’ve used as references for this story: “The Artist, The Philosopher, and the Warrior”, by Paul Strathern. It’s about Leonardo, Cesare, and Machiavelli, and how their lives intertwined during this period. I have also used, “The Borgias and Their Enemies,” which is mostly about Cesare and Lucrezia, though Alexander the Sixth is given quite a bit of coverage. Oh, how I love reading about history. You should see my collection of archaeology books.

f Lucrezia thought she had come back to peace and quiet after her self-imposed exile in Nepi, she found that it was all for naught.

“I am considering a marriage for you, Lucrezia,” the Pope told her, “Though I have yet to be decided as to whom.”

“What?” Lucrezia was furious, it had not even been a year since Alfonso had been murdered. “I will not marry again, Father, I am bad luck for husbands, at best. No, I will not do this.” She stormed out of his offices, slamming the door behind her, not knowing if she wanted to cry or scream.

She went to the stables and ordered that her horse be saddled. Once again, she felt the need to flee the Vatican. Did God truly hate her so, that her life always seemed to go from bad to worse?

Constanzia’s major domo greeted her at the door, sending a page to inform Carmilla that her mistress’ cousin had come to see her. Soon she was escorted upstairs, and found Constanzia newly out of her bath, wrapped in her robe.

“Leave us,” she told her servants, but held onto Carmilla’s hand. “Bring us some wine,” she said, “I fear that whatever this is about, it is not good.” Carmilla curtsied and left the chamber.

She held out her arms to Lucrezia, who rushed into them, crying. “Oh, I cannot believe it, truly I cannot. He is thinking of marrying me already!”

Constanzia held her at arm’s length. “I wish I could say the same, cousin, but nothing your father does surprises me anymore. Do you know to whom? I cannot believe this, this time you father truly surpasses himself.” She led her to a chair, and sat her down, then took a chair next to her.

“I don’t know, I was too angry to ask, but cousin, I am thinking that I will not fight him as long as it is someone acceptable.”

Carmilla came in with the wine, and poured a glass for each. At a look from Constanzia, she bowed and left the room, then took her position behind the door.

“Why? Are you truly willing to go along with this? What will I do without you?”

“I was thinking,” she sighed, “Rome has been a place of so much unhappiness for me. Every step brings me face to face with some memory of unhappiness. I love my father and brother, but I would be glad to get away from them, if it meant some refuge for me. Just think, to not be the notorious Lucrezia Borgia who slept with her father and brother, whose first marriage was annulled because her husband was falsely accused of impotence and nearly killed by her brother. Oh, and let us not forget the fate of her second husband, who was indeed killed by her brother.” She took a sip of her wine and fell silent.

“Tell me, Lucrezia, was it so hard to reconcile Cesare, after what he did?” Constanzia leaned forward, trying to read her face.

“Once I forgave him, it was like a burden fell from my shoulders. And is it true that you have been writing him?”

“Yes, when he told me you forgave him, when he told me how much he loves me, and you, how much I meant to him and how he hated to have me angry with him, I forgave him, too. I find it so hard, though, when I find out how he has conducted himself in battles, and how cruel the aftermath, I swear, I hardly know him. That the man who loves me so tenderly can be responsible for so much cruelty, it is hard to reconcile him with my lover.”

“And he killed your husband, too, I know that. I told my confessor how confused I feel sometimes, and he told me that it was God’s will, even though it was hard to understand. How long has it been since you went to confession, Constanzia?”

“I don’t know, a long time. Cesare has rubbed off on me, I guess. I go to mass for holy days, and confession not at all. After all that has happened, all I have seen, it is hard to believe anymore.” She shrugged her shoulder, “I lack your belief and piety. I believe in my friends, my family, my child, my lover, in helping others. Somehow, that seems enough. Going to only Christmas and Easter mass would be enough for me, I think, were I not the niece of the pope.”

“Father has become so furious with Cesare, he says he has been a bad influence on you. But I understand, I do. When bad things happen, it is hard not to blame God.”

The Este family was wrestling with its own problems, but the thought of the heir, Alfonso, marrying Lucrezia Borgia, took precedence 

“Father, you cannot be serious,” Isabelle d’Este told her father Ercole indignantly, “Her brother kidnapped and raped my poor Donatea Mataresta. “He claims he is innocent, but she declares otherwise. And Lucrezia is supposed to have committed incest with him, though she denies it. And she’s a bastard, why does Alfonso not go ahead with his marriage to Louis XII’s niece?

Alfonso did not truly want to marry the Borgia girl, but the picture that had been sent to him portrayed a woman with hazel eyes and golden hair who was truly lovely. His wife had just died in childbirth, but like Lucrezia Borgia, she had a rather unsavory reputation. She had taken for a lover a lovely Negro girl, and had barely bothered to hide it.

He himself had a secret pastime, though in Ferrara his secret was well known. He got a thrill from wondering the streets at night, holding his sword in one hand, his erect penis in the other. His other passion, so to speak, was his foundry where he cast cannons, and spent time there whenever he could.

He was a study in contrasts, however. Like his brother, Cardinal Ippolito, he was a patron of the arts. He loved music and played the viol so beautifully it would make one weep. The Borgia girl, too, was a patron of the arts, he had heard. This was a marriage he did not wish for, but it might be bearable.

“Are you serious, Alfonso D’Este? Have you heard the rumors about him, Lucretia? Most unsavory, not for me to repeat.” Constanzia studied the picture Lucrezia had just received. “He’s not much to look at, but at least he’s not ugly—or terribly ugly. And the D’Este’s are rich, or so I’ve heard. So, what can you tell me about the marital negotiations?”

“An obscenely large dowry, from what I understand, four hundred thousand ducats, in cash, jewels, and household goods.”

“And uncle is willing to pay it? He must truly want this match.” Though I don’t know why, thought Constanzia, is Ferrara all that important, except that it borders Cesare’s kingdom, and that will guarantee its safety if you are there"  
.  
“He’s been doing a lot behind the scenes. He’s talked to Louis, he keeps sweetening the dowry by increasing it. He also decreased his yearly payments to the Vatican to one hundred ducats, from forty-five hundred. He convinced Louis that it would be in his interests to break off the engagement of his niece to Alfonso, and that was one of the last hurdles. It seems I will have to win over Duke Ercole D’Este and convince him that marrying the pope’s bastard daughter was worth sacrificing a connection to royalty.”

“Don’t worry, he will love you, everyone loves you. But there’s something else, isn’t there? Tell me.” Constanzia looked at her, seeing the tears forming in the corners of her eyes.

“Yes, there is, I must leave Rodrigo behind. He’ll have an allowance of fifteen thousand ducats, but oh, Constanzia, when will I ever see him again?” Lucrezia held her cousin tightly. “I have two children, neither of whom I can take with me. I must present the ‘semblance’ of a virgin, whatever that means . Maybe my first marriage was annulled for non-consummation, but I was legitimately married to Alfonso, and our child was baptized by the pope himself. Alfonso has no heirs, and the fact that I’ve born a son should surely count for something.”

Constanzia stroked Lucrezia’s beautiful golden hair. “Tell me, cousin, would it ease your heart if I were to accompany you? Surely Duke Ercole would not begrudge you the company of your beloved cousin, would he?”

“Oh, would you? Truly? But could Cesare spare you?”

“He has no choice, you need me and that is all there is to it. I was so homesick in Genoa when I first came there, I would have given anything for family to be there with me—even Juan! Cesare is gone so much now, fighting or administering the territories he has conquered, that he spares no time to come see me. And he has his new courtesan, Fiametta, to help him pass the time if I’m not here. If Cesare wants to see me, he can come to see me in Ferrara.”


	29. Love, Duty, and Family

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lucrezia is preparing for her journey to Ferrara for her marriage to Alfonso D'Este. Constantzia has reconciled with Cesare and is reading a letter that Machiavelli, singing his praises. Cesare will be home in early June, and Constanzia and Lucrezia are both looking forward to it. Lucrezia tempts Cesare who does not do much of a job of resisting

11

“This Lord is very proud and, as a soldier, he is so enterprising that nothing is so great that it does not seem trivial to him. And, for the sake of glory and of acquiring lands, he does not rest, and acknowledges no fatigue or danger. He arrives at one place before his is known to have left the other; he endears himself to his soldiers, he had got hold of the best men in Italy, and these factors, together with continual good fortune, make him victorious and dangerous.”

Constanzia closed the letter she had just received from Machiavelli with a smile. She could listen to the Florentine sing Cesare’s praises all day long. Her cousin was turning out to be a very good leader of men, as well as a strategist. And his men did love him, for the confidence he instilled in them, the victories he won, as well as being allowed to help themselves liberally to the spoils.

Machiavelli was a delightful correspondent. Best of all, he did not edit his letters, letting her know just what was happening as Cesare campaigned with Louis XII. If she had any doubts as to why Alfonso has been killed, the reason was made plain when Louis announced his plans to claim the throne of Naples.

She did not regret relenting and forgiving Cesare. “Do not try to understand what I do, my darling,” he had said in one of their many letters, “This is war, it can be cruel and brutal and it is best to just accept it, as we accept any unpleasant thing in life. Know instead how much I love you, that I miss you every moment I spend away from you. “

“I will be back in Rome in early June, look for me then. I long to fold you and Lucrezia into my arms and kiss your sweet and lovely faces. Perhaps, my dear, as brief as the time will be that I spend there, we will be successful in conceiving another child, perhaps a girl who will be as lovely as her beautiful mother. I send you my love and kisses, your loving Cesare.”

She returned to Machiavelli’s letter. “You will be pleased to know that there is someone I wish to introduce your lord to. No doubt you have heard of Leonardo da Vinci, known as much for his skills as a painter as he is for not completing his commissions! But there is one thing you do not perhaps know, he is a master engineer, and is highly skilled as creating weapons of war. He may be older, but his skills, it seems, have only increased with age! I will introduce him to our lord,” here she smiled at his choice of words, for they seemed to border on heresy, “and I think he will be pleased to have the opportunity to put his talents to work.”

 

She sighed and put the letter away where she kept her correspondence. Her letters from Cesare she kept in a gilded box, decorated with tiny pearls and garnets. It was not always easy to love him. She had to accept his mistresses, she had no choice. Fiametta de Michelis was just one in a long string of women. The one time she had dared argue with him about it, he had become very angry, but even so, she did not back down.

It did not bother her when she was pregnant, especially in the last months. It was thought that to have intercourse was dangerous to the baby and the pregnancy—she and Cesare had proven that was not true. In the later months, though, it was almost a release to have him seek the attentions of other women. If they respected the other’s feelings, things seemed to be fine.

Except for the brutality, he allowed his army. All the murder, the rape, the pillaging, she did not understand. Even when he explained to her that it benefitted his men, and added to reputation as a leader that no one dared cross, she did still could not understand.

She wandered into the nursery for her morning visit to her son. Marco was now almost three, a sturdy boy tall for his age, and his temperament was sweetness itself. If she were to come to Ferrara with Lucrezia, she would not leave her son behind, she decided, after all, she was not the one marrying into the D’Este family. Lucrezia was heartbroken at having to leave Rodrigo and Giovanni behind, but since she was agreeing to the terms of the marriage, her children would pay the price.

Lucrezia summoned her after luncheon, and they walked together in the Vatican’s gardens. The trees and bushes were bare, but soon spring would come, and the first buds would appear, then the fruit trees would start to blossom and the gardens would soon turn into a riot of color.

“Ferrara is balking at the marriage once again,” Lucrezia broke the silence they had been walking in. “They keep making more demands and their demands are getting more expensive. If they don’t want Alfonzo D’Este to marry me, why don’t they just break off negotiations? After all, he was engaged to a niece of Louis XII, why break it off in the first place?”

“Because in the long run, Louis needs your father’s support. Ferrara is rich, and though smaller than Milan and Naples, very influential. If you marry Alfonzo, it will give your father a foothold in the north. But tell me, Lucrezia, how do you feel about it?”

“It’s as I’ve told you, I’ve decided not to fight it. How much unhappiness have we endured, you and I? Ferrara is wealthy, they support the arts, and it will take me away from here. I can bear no more unhappiness, cousin. I could not believe it when Cesare…” here she trailed off and began crying quietly into a handkerchief.

Constanzia took her in her arms, “How well I know of what you speak, dearest Lucrezia. But it is as you said, if you do marry, it will take you far away from your unhappy memories in Rome. And Duke Ercole is old, he will not live for much longer, and then you will become Duchess of Ferrara and preside over your own court. Perhaps I will stay for longer than a short visit. If you can persuade the Duke to find me a villa, then I can set up my own household and I will always be there for you.”

“Do you know that they are sending two envoys to see if I am ‘worthy’ of being admitted into the noble house of D’Este? I cannot believe it myself.”

“Well, Lucrezia my love, one had best have their wits about them when talking to you! And, my god, you’ve born not one but two healthy sons! Ferrara will be wanting heirs—you will be able to provide them. If only there were a way to make them see that all the rumors they have heard about you are just that—rumors.

“Well, perhaps not quite,” said Lucrezia under her breath, not quite able to meet her cousin’s eyes. 

No, Lucrezia, thought Constanzia, do not tell me anything, not if it’s true, not if it’s just innuendo. Cesare has protected me from this all these years, I could not bear to hear it now. is there any truth to it? she was tempted to ask, but voicing it would do no good. Whatever had happened between Lucrezia and Cesare was in the past, a past best left forgotten.

Lucrezia took her hand, “I have a treat for you, a new sweetmeat from Turkey, plus coffee. Mama will be joining us, she asks about you all the time.” And there they decided to leave the unsaid, unsaid. 

“Is Cesare coming home soon?” Lucrezia asked casually, almost too casually.

“The beginning of June, I cannot wait. I must have some new gowns made, even if he will be here barely a week. And some clothes for Marco—he has not seen him in over six months, he will not believe how much he has grown! And I have a bolt or two for you, if you’d like some new dresses, too.”

“Thank you, but that won’t be necessary, I’ve started having garments made for my wedding and trousseau, even if Ferrara has yet to give in. Father is so determined, I doubt that he will allow anything to go wrong.”

“And you’re still determined to go?”

“Yes, yes I am. There is nothing holding me here but bad memories. I’ve reconciled with Cesare, after all, we do love each other, and he would do anything for me.” Except to prevent him killing my husband. And I can’t bear the way he looks at you, and the thought of his having a wife and child breaks my heart. I am not so reconciled to that as you might think, but hardest of all is you.

“Well, then, my dearest, I will go with you. Who knows, even though your husband to be may prefer the low life, he may soon come to find that he prefers your company to the sewers. It is not a bad thing to have a husband adore you. Who knows, he may even come to respect your intelligence. If he should go off to war, who better to rule in his place? You’d like that, I know you, and you’d be good at it.

When he returned to Rome, Cesare entered by one of the lesser used side gates, and rode straight to his house to see Constanzia. He entered, still in his armor, to find Constanzia supervising Marco’s bath. He picked her up and spun her around until she felt dizzy.

He set her down and held her close. “My God, I have missed you. Why is it that every time we are separated, I find you even more beautiful when I return?” Heedless of the presence of the nurse and her maid, he took her in is arms and kissed her deeply.

She pushed him gently, “You must greet your son. Cesare, I am sure he has missed you.”

“You little rapscallion,” he lifted his son in his arms, holding him high overhead. Marco crowed and laughed. Carmilla handed him a towel and he wrapped his wet baby boy snugly. “God, he grows each time I am away. Such a handsome boy, too, Constanzia. I swear, he resembles each of us so much that I don’t see how the Pallavicinis can possible claim him.”

“That is because he is a Borgia on both sides, brother. You and Constanzia are alike enough to be twins, and your baby shows it.” Lucrezia smiled, her love for him shining in her eyes. And the baby did resemble Cesare, she thought resentfully, her sons were handsome, but they did not bear a resemblance to her beloved brother.

“Will you not kiss your sister? She has missed you sorely?”

“Gladly,” he said and handed Marco to his nurse. Taking Lucrezia in his arms he stroked her long golden hair, then kissed her. “You are looking so beautiful. Unlike that brute Giovanni Sforza, I am sure this one will fall in love with you. Lucrezia Borgia, I predict happiness for you.”

“And, we will make sure Giovanni Sforza will not be allowed anywhere near Ferrara, at least during your wedding festivities. And if he has business there after that, you are free to ignore him and exclude him from your circle. You will, after all, be the duchess someday.” Constanzia smiled, hoping that she was right.

“Lucrezia, let me talk to Constanzia alone for a moment, then I will escort you to the Vatican. I must get out of this armor, and bathe and change. We will all be together tonight at dinner, for a change. 

It was like old times, almost. Jofre, Sancia, Lucrezia, Constanzia, the pope, and him were gathered around the dinner table. Vanozza was entertaining friends and La Bella was no long the pope’s mistress, so it only family was present. Constanzia wore a gown of deep rose, and Lucrezia shown in a gown of aqua, leaving Cesare with the pleasant task of trying to decide which of the two was more beautiful.

They did not talk of family business, they did not talk of war and politics, but only about themselves. Jofre teased Lucrezia about her coming marriage and asked how long she thought it would take for her to get pregnant. After all, he reminded her, Borgia women were fertile, and got pregnant soon after they took to their marriage bed—which the pontiff would be sure to bless, even if it was at proxy like her marriage.

“That would be to my advantage,” she answered him, “The sooner I can give him children, the sooner he might let me go my own way.”

"But you might like him, Lucrezia," said Sancia, "He loves music, he is a patron of the arts like the rest of his family. Just think how many artists and musicians you might be able to sponsor. You never know, the two of you might suit each other.”

“All this talk of marriage is boring me,” Cesare stood up and held out his hand, “Come, cousin, I will see you home.” And I can’t wait to get you into bed, and I’m starting to lose my patience.

The bedroom was lit by candles and the window had been opened to allow in fresh air. Carmilla took one look at them and left the room, closing the door behind her.

Constanzia started fumbling with her laces. “No, let me,” Cesare said and began to undo them. When her gown lay in a pool around her feet he stripped off his clothes and took her into their bed.

When their lovemaking had tired her, she fell asleep and Cesare quietly dressed and left the villa. Fiametta was waiting for him, though he had given her no assurances. When he reached the Vatican, he went to his rooms, and began to change into the outfit he’d had laid out for him.

“Brother.” He turned around and saw Lucrezia, “Brother,” she said, “If I must be sent off to Ferrara, will you not love me? You owe me, you know, you took away my husband, so you owe me a lover—and I want it to be you.”

She came to his side and let her robe slip from her shoulders. “I cannot bear the fact that Constanzia has someone so beautiful as you, while I must tolerate that Ferrarese brute. Love me, brother, love me just for tonight, but the time you come back I will be his wife and will have to make the journey north.”

“Lucrezia, no,” he said weakly, but he knew he was lost. He took her into his arms and felt her plump breasts push against him. He lifted her up onto his bed and stripped away his clothes, groaning softly as her hands reached out to feel him. He felt himself groan as he grew hard. Well, he had committed so many sins anyway where women were concerned, that it was not hard to be responsive to his sister’s hands and lips. Fiametta would have to do without him at least one night he thought as he slipped into her. But, he promised himself, this must not happen again—or had he said this once before?


	30. The Wages of Sin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sancia, Lucrezia, and Constanzia play a dangerous game, vying for the attentions of a handsome Frenchman.
> 
> Constanzia learns that Cesare has a heavy hand when it comes to displeasing him. When he finds out that she has been flirting with the handsome Lord D'Aubigny, she finds herself turned over Cesare's knee, receiving the spanking of her life--and then the fucking
> 
> I just felt like being naughty here

The summer sun came in streaks through the curtains, casting dancing patters on the stone floor. Lucrezia sat up, noticing that Cesare was not in her bed. She pulled the sheet around her, and went to look for him. 

He was putting on the finishing touches of his outfit—a blue velvet tunic edged in gold, stockings of the same blue. She watched, unseen, as he dabbed perfume on his throat, then allowed his man to put the finishing touches on his dark brown hair and beard.

His hair is so like Constanzia’s, she thought, that beautiful dark brown with touches of gold, and wondered where that thought had come from. Her cousin was the last thing she wanted on her mind.

She stepped forward, heedless of the impropriety of what she was doing. “Cesare? What are you doing?”

With a curt nod, he dismissed his man. Taking her, not gently, by the arm, he led her back to his bedroom. “What are you doing, Lucrezia? That could have been one of my men, you cannot afford to be seen in my chambers.”

“I wondered why you were not in bed, come back to bed, Cesare,” she said beseechingly.”

“Lucrezia, this must stop, last night was the last time. You cannot afford to risk a pregnancy, there is too much at stake. Your wedding is in September and then you will travel to Ferrara after the first of the year. Neither one of us can afford to endanger your wedding, this is a good match. Father needs it, and I need it. With you as Duchess, I will have an ally in the northernmost reaches of my dukedom. Even if you wish to risk it, I don’t."

“And what I want does not matter? Have you heard what he’s like? Wandering the streets at night holding his penis? Is that what you wish for me, a man who revels in the sewers? And for this you killed my Alphonso!”

She could no longer hold in the tears. “I have been so unhappy. I try to please God, but the more I try, the more he tries me. You and Father care nothing for how I feel, only your ambitions. Were I a simple milkmaid, I would know more happiness.”

“And you would lead a miserable life, and you know it. You’re a Borgia, you are made of sterner stuff. Give D’Este his children, then go your own way. He will certainly have a mistress, if you are very discreet you may take lovers, away from the eyes of Father. We are counting on you, Lucrezia, this is the best marriage we have made for you yet. Alfonso was not worthy of you; did he not desert you while you were pregnant?”

“Well, what about Constanzia?” Will you say the same to her when Father wants to marry her off? Or will you poison her husband again?”  
He wanted to slap her, the look on his face gave him away, but he exercised that steely control he had cultivated over the years.

“If Father wishes to marry her, there is nothing I can do but support it,” he said, but she knew he was lying. Even if she was the more beautiful of the two of them, she was still jealous of her cousin. When she was young, her romantic heart had been enchanted when her brother and her cousin had become lovers. Then, as she grew older and had returned to Rome, she realized the depth of her feelings for Cesare. Now she realized she was in a rivalry she could not win. She was Cesare’s sister, and they loved each other, but Constanzia was the love of his life. And she loved Constanzia, too.

“Come, put on your robe, I must try to get you back to your rooms without someone seeing. Sis, you must not do this again, I want you to promise me. Last night was the last time.” He held out her peignoir, and covered her with it.

“Cesare,” she said, but he cut her off.

“Whatever it is, Lucrezia, I do not want to hear it. I only have a few more days, then I must leave again. Do not make me sad because my beloved sister is unhappy.”

The gods were smiling on her, no one saw them as she stole back to her rooms. He kissed her swiftly on the lips, then pushed her into her room and shut the door.

He went, as was his custom, to visit Constanzia and see his son. Constanzia was newly awake, and delightfully tousled. Cesare was tempted to remove his clothes and have her right there, but he had business to take care of in the form of a visitor from the French Army.

“I want to remove that nightgown and have you, but alas, I cannot.” She looked at him and smiled as Carmilla brought a smiling Marco in. 

“Papa!” cried Marco and held out his arms.

He tossed him in the air, then hugged him close. “Would you like to see the solders, my son?” he asked, “Do you think your mother would be upset with me?”

“What soldiers do you mean, Cesare?” she asked, “Is there something you haven’t told me, for it is your habit to tell me everything, is it not?”

He sat down, and positioned Marco on his lap so he would not fall. “It is the French army, my love, they are camped outside Rome. Their commander, Robert Stuart, Lord D’Aubigny will be received by Jofre at the gate of Santa Maria Del Populo. Father will be handing out gifts this afternoon, and I have arranged to have a pearl necklace presented to you. Cardinal Sanseverino will be hosting a banquet for him tonight in Sforza’s old villa. Wear that gold brocade that I love, and your blue silk riding habit this afternoon. We will bring Marco with us to the presentation, it is time he learns his papa’s importance in Rome."

“Well, was this intended to be a surprise? How long will our guest be with us?”

“The Army will leave on June 28, and D’Aubigny and I will leave a few days later. I am learning that there is always last minute business that one never foresees. Oh, and Constanzia?”

“Yes, Cesare, what is it?”

“Do not flirt with him, he is married. And tell Lucrezia also.” He smiled his devilish smile to let her know he was teasing.

She smiled as she turned to go to her dressing room. “Oh, so you would have him think your mistress is a paragon of virtue? I am sorry, my love, I cannot promise that.” She shut the door behind her, then opened it and peeked her head around. “If he is handsome, I may not be able to help myself,” and closed the door again.

The summer night sky glowed dark blue, the stars twinkling overhead. The trees were in blossom, and little silver lanterns had been tied to the branches. The guests milled around, talking, laughing, drinking, waiting for dinner to start. Cardinal Sanseverino knew how to throw a party.

Constanzia wore her new pearls with her gold brocade gown. Carmilla had dressed her hair, wrapping her long braids with gold ribbons, and the pearls Calvino had given her on her wedding day. She touched them for a moment, remembering how he had placed them around her neck, then kissed it and whispered, “Ti amo.”

“So, where is this paragon of male pulchritude, cousin, I find myself in need of male company.” Lucrezia took a sip of wine out of her golden goblet. She was slightly drunk, her eyes bright, but not yet slurring her words.

“Shh, he’s coming, Lucrezia, is he not handsome? It’s too bad he’s married, he’d make an excellent husband. He’s almost as handsome as Cesare, I like Spanish looking men.”

“A wager cousin? Say five hundred ducats to the one he chooses for tonight.”

“Done,” Constanzia answered, “Now hush, he’ll favor neither one of us if he knows what we’re up to.”

Robert Stuart, Lord D’Aubigny was darkly handsome, surely there must be Moorish blood running through his veins, Constanzia thought. It had been hard for her to keep his eyes from him during the long afternoon ceremonies, but if she was not mistaken, he had had his velvet brown eyes on her. Fortunately, Cesare hadn’t seen, otherwise she would be locked in her room right now until Cesare saw fit to release her.  
And he was coming over now, so she smiled, ignoring Lucrezia for the moment. Was there such a thing as a Frenchman who did not cheat on his wife? If so, the handsome Lord D’Aubigny surely was not one of them.

“Mademoiselle,” he said, his mustache tickled her hand as he kissed it, “It is my pleasure to see you here this evening. My Lord Cesare and His Holiness have made me feel very welcome. I must make more time for my next trip to Rome. He smiled, and the smile came close to breaking both girls’ hearts.

Constanzia came out of her reverie as Lucrezia jabbed her in the ribs. “May I present my cousin, the Lady Lucrezia Borgia?” 

He bowed and Lucrezia curtsied gracefully, something she did very well. “It is my pleasure, Mademoiselle. I did not realize that the Borgia women were graced with such beauty. If they have not assigned us seats, would the two of you consent to sit with me at dinner?”

Oh, you are good, thought Lucrezia, you’d have both of us if you could, I know that look. It’s too bad for you that my cousin and I are as good as married. She thought for a moment, well, I do deserve one last fling and no one would ever know. I don’t think Constanzia can get away from Cesare all that easily, but we shall see. This is going to fun, I think.

They strolled through the crowd of people, arm in arm, talking to the Pope’s guests. If Alexander VI saw, he pretended he did not care. Jofre and Sancia saw, but only Sancia seemed to notice. “Excuse me husband,” she said, “I must go speak to our sister and our cousin.” So talented was she at deception, Jofre did not seem to notice. She wandered casually, seemingly without destination, to where Lucrezia and Constanzia stood, talking to a most handsome man. Make way, my sisters, she thought, the two of you are certainly not going to keep me from this jewel.

Sancia was self-confident, especially when it came to men. She approached D’Aubigny, and curtseyed low enough for him to see her décolletage. “I am Sancia of Squillace, my sisters must have forgotten to make our introductions. 

Etiquette was one of Lucrezia’s specialties. “My Lord D’Aubigny, may I present my sister in law, Sancia de Aragona, wife to my brother Jofre.”

Sancia curtseyed again, “My Lord,” she said in her dulcet tones.

D’Aubigny raised her up, “Enchanted, mademoiselle, here I am surrounded by beauty, whatever shall I do?” 

The party walked beneath the light of the lanterns, Lucrezia in front with D’Aubigny, while the other two girls trailed behind.  
“Does he favor blonds then?” Sancia asked Constanz  
ia.  
“No, but to be frank, I think he simply favors cunt. There will be one thousand ducats for you if you win him, we each pay five hundred to the victor.”

“How delicious, let’s make sure Lucrezia does not win him. After all, she will be married in September, and then will travel in January to Ferrara. It would not do for her to get pregnant, whatever would her husband think?”

“Perhaps he will have each of us, after all, there are plenty of dark, quiet corners in this garden. I only need worry about Cesare finding out, he will take out his anger on my poor bottom, I am sure.”

“Well, we must not have that. Let us have the D’Aubigny and spare you ass.” Sancia and Constanzia laughed, amused by the angry look Lucrezia was giving them  
.  
D’Aubigny found himself seated not between the girls, but between the Pope and Cesare during dinner. He had, at least, unhindered views of the girls. He saw the dark looks that Cesare was casting towards his cousin. Your charming bottom will be quite sore if you are not careful, he thought, perhaps I should not endanger it, though you do seem so tempting I just might.

My Lady Lucrezia, you are to be married in a few months, it would not do for me to put your marriage in danger. Perhaps someday I will visit Ferrara, and we can renew our acquaintance then. 

So that leaves you, then. Signora Sancia. I hear that you are so skilled at making cuckold of your husband that he barely notices. I have heard that there are fireworks planned, perhaps they will provide us a diversion and we may steal away for a while.

Lucrezia and Constanzia each were quietly fuming when they saw Sancia leave with the handsome Frenchman. “Imagine that,” said Lucrezia, “I was sure it was going to be one of us. Jofre will pay no attention, he never does. I wonder how she manages it.”

“I don’t know,” Constanzia replied, “But Cesare is coming over here with a look like a thunder cloud on his face. I didn’t think that he saw our little flirtation, but he must have, for here he comes.”

“Excuse me sis,” said Cesare, “But I must borrow our cousin.” He took her by the upper arm and dragged her to his horse, and threw her up on its back.

“Cesare, what is this? What is wrong with you?” She tried to wriggle down off the horse, but to no avail.

“Evidently you need a little lesson in conduct, this is perhaps overdue. Behave yourself and I might decide to be kind.

He took her to the Vatican, marching her up a little staircase that was used mainly by the servants. He unlocked the door to his room, saying, “In,” and shoved her into his chambers.

She watched as he locked the door, then unceremoniously removed her clothes. He took her arm and whispered in her ear, “Did you think I would not notice? This lesson is long overdue. Your sweet little bum is going to pay for your sins. Fight me, and I shall take my sword belt to you. Do as you’re told and it will be over relatively quickly, though do not expect that I shall be lenient. Now,” he said as he sat on his bed, “Bend over my knee, and do not argue. I do not mind if you scream, but do not think about fighting me.”

She did as she was told, squinting her eyes shut and waiting for the first blow. When it came, it was much harder than she expected, as were the others that followed. She did not scream, but tears flowed from her eyes. She squirmed around, trying to find a place where his hand could not find her, but there was no such thing. All she could do was lay there and wait until he finished  
.  
At last he did stop, but ran a fingernail across her sore, red read rear, making her jump. Then, to her horror, his hands separated her legs and she felt his fingers start to play with her. She realized, to her shame, that she was wet, and she was responding now to the ministrations of his fingers.

He pushed her off his lap, then she heard him unfasten his hose. He leaned over her, letting her feel how hard he was, then pushed into her and began to move.

He’d won in every way. Not only was she wet and slippery, her traitorous body was responding to him. Resisting him now would do no good, so she obediently submitted to him, not even trying to move away from him when he’d finished and collapsed on top of her.

He pulled off the rest of his clothes. “I know you took no pleasure in that, my sweet, but I did. I’m going to have to do this more often, you are devilishly tempting when your bottom is being spanked.”

The next morning, a purse was sent to Sancia. “You won this time,” it read, “But do not count on it happening again.” Inside was a thousand gold ducats.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Robert Stuart, Lord D'Aubigny was the commanding general of Louis XII's army. He was received in Rome by Alexander, who gifted him with a fine grey horse.


	31. How Cruel is War

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cesare and Constanzia confront each other about what happened the night before--and realize it does not affect how they feel about each other.
> 
> She finds out that Cesare will be joining Louis XII army for the invasion of Naples. She wonders why men continue to go to war when it causes so much suffering, deprivation and destruction.
> 
> Then she finds out about the destruction of Capua, and feels it is more

Constanzia woke slowly, as if out of a dream, no, a nightmare. She looked around her, feeling terribly confused because nothing was as it should be. Where were her things, where was Carmilla sleeping in a corner on her cot? She pushed herself up, to take a better look, and then she understood.

She was in Cesare’s bed, not at all where she had intended to be. It came back to her now, and she understood why. She had hoped it was all a bad dream, but it wasn’t. She rubbed her sore bottom, not so bad now, but the indignity of what Cesare had done to her was still fresh.  
She saw her clothes lying across the room where he had left them. She looked at Cesare, peacefully sleeping, then lifted the covers carefully, trying to make sure she would not disturb him. She tried to leave his bed as quietly as she could, but it was not enough, for she felt a strong arm around her waist, pulling her closer to him  
.  
“No,” he said simply, “No” was all he ever said. He pulled her firmly against him, holding her tightly.

“Cesare, I have to go, Baby will be waking up soon. And I’m angry with you, and I do not feel inclined to be pliant and loving. You’ll have to earn my forgiveness for that. Until that time…”

“Until that time, I’ll try to forget that you, Lucrezia, and Sancia were trying to plot your way into D’Aubigny’s bed last night.”

She gave a little gasp. “How did you find out?”

“It wasn’t hard to guess, little cousin, especially after the four of you were seen walking around together. Jofre is so ignorant of the ways of his wife that he undoubtedly doesn’t and won’t know. I, however, am not so ignorant, my love.”

“But nothing happened, so what sin did I commit? It was Sancia who snared him, not Lucrezia or I. And what of your mistresses? Do I complain? (very often, at least, she thought) Why is it all right for you, yet if I…”

He leaned over, grabbing a handful of her hair, slowly bringing her face close to his. “I will not share you with anyone, not ever again. I Iived in agony when you were in Genoa, thinking of your being in his arms.” Cesare did not have to say who he was.

“I loved Calvino, Cesare, and you took him away from me. You even robbed me of having his child.” She sighed, and fell on her pillow. “What is this madness I feel for you? I should hate you, I tried to hate you, but I don’t.”

“Hate me all you wish, my darling, just keep on loving me. And I promise to think twice before my jealousy takes itself out on your charming little bottom. Love me now, then we will go to Marco.” He paused for a moment, “I have something else to tell you, but it must wait.”

“No,” she answered, but it did not do her any good. Did anyone else’s lips kiss her so exquisitely? Did anyone else’s hands how the right places to touch her? Could anyone use his fingers on her and bring her to such delights that she almost wanted to scream in her pleasure.

She was helpless in his arms, all he had to do was touch her and she was lost. She did not forget her anger, but surrendered to him, knowing it was the path of least resistance.

Their lovemaking finished, he acted as her lady’s maid and helped her dress. He would have made a good one, for he was very adept when it came to lacing her corset and gown. Do you do this for anyone else? She wondered resentfully. She sat and watched him dress as she brushed her hair, then twisted it into a knot.

He borrowed her brush, and arranged his hair. He wore the clothes that had been set out for him the previous night, making her feel a little tawdry.

Then she remembered what he’s said. “What do you have to tell me Cesare—is it something important? Does it have anything to do with the Lord D’Aubigny?”

“Ah, yes. Father is going to tell him that he held a secret consistory and dispossessed Federico of Aragon of the kingdom of Naples. It has now been bestowed upon Louis. I suspect that D’Aubigny will now rejoin his troops on the road to Naples.”

“Is that all?” she asked, somehow it seemed that that would not be enough  
.  
“Well, Caterina Sforza is being released from the dungeon of the Castel, and will be exiled to Florence. Since she won’t be needing them now, I am going to secure Imola and Forli for myself. Congratulate me, cousin, I am on my way to establishing my kingdom in the Romagna.”

“Caterina was in the dungeons? I thought…”

“She tried to escape and was caught--that is a cardinal sin. If you attempt to escape, you must be sure you do not get caught.”

“Are saying that to me, or to you, Cesare? Sometimes I think that you will not see old bones. Didn’t you tell me once that you expected to die in battle?”

“Yes, I did, and I do. There is something else. I am waiting on Vitellozzo Vitelli. When he comes, I must join Louis. Do not fear, I will be back in time for Lucrezia’s wedding. I will escort the two of you on the road to Ferrara, but I will rejoin my troops after that. I am hoping that while you are gone you will find it possible to forgive me.”

“As if you think you need to be forgiven. Come, let us go see our child, he asks for his father every morning.”

“There is one more thing I forgot to tell you,” he said, “You will have to leave Marco behind. The weather will be severe, and cold, perhaps even snowing. He is too young and delicate for such a journey. Do not cry,” he said, as she wiped a tear from her eye, “You won’t be gone longer than a few months. As soon as Lucrezia is settled you must come home. Sancia is taking care of Giovanni and Rodrigo, she will not mind looking after Marco, too. At least Marco is only losing his mother for a short while, let that comfort you.”

She wanted to say, “No, you can’t make me leave my son in Rome,” but she knew the truth in what he said. “Yes, Cesare, I agree with you, only it will be hard to bear. It is going to be hard when I must leave Lucrezia, I worry for her. Not that she won’t be treated well, but she will be homesick. I loved Calvino and his family, and Genoa, but I was dreadfully homesick.” She wanted to add, “And being pregnant made it worse,” but didn’t.

If there was one thing good she could say about Cesare Borgia, it was that he doted on his son. The Borgias loved their children. He wanted her to get pregnant again, and had been disheartened when she had lost their daughter. Even if Charlotte D’Albret had born his daughter, Constanzia’s were the children of his heart. He loved her in his own way. Cesare Borgia had to be accepted on his own terms. Constanzia was finding that was easier to do than she thought, for she knew him, and his ways, well. And no matter what, there was never any doubt in her mind that he loved her.

D'Aubigny left after he met with the Pope. He was joining his army on their way to the Romagna, and Naples. She stood with Sancia and Lucrezia on the balcony, watching as the crowd cheered him on. Somehow the crowd only saw the splendors of the army, not what they really did. Did they even think about the killing, the rape, the destruction? And after that would come the starvation and the deprivation. The army would leave the countryside barren, and starvation would follow. Why did people glory in war, anyway? In her eyes it was not glorious, it was a waste, no, a sin.

Finally, Vitellozzo Vitelli arrived with his men, and Cesare finalized his preparations. He and his men would ride out to meet up with Louis and D’Aubigny, and join his campaign to take Naples, giving the French king control in the north.

The night before he left, Cesare cut a long lock of Constanzia’s hair, and braided it with one of her ribbons. He had wanted to include a lock of Marco’s hair but it was too short. In the morning, he tucked it into his doublet, saying, “Now I will have you with me even when I am away. Your angel will watch over me, I am sure.”

She sat up in their bed, wrapping the sheets around her. “Do you have to go? Can you not send your condottiere and stay with me?”

He sat down beside her. “What is this, my love? Why do you say this to me? I have a treaty with Louis, in exchange for the loan of his men, I agree to fight for him. Would you have me break my word?”

“No, of course not, you are a man of honor, after all. It’s just that I hate all that goes with the wars you fight. It’s so…” she sought for a word, “Cruel, and it seems unnecessary. I hate war.”

“That is one of the things I love about you, your tender heart. But, I would have a kingdom to leave for our son. Charlotte’s daughter is my heir, but I will set up a kingdom for our Marco. Someday, he will have to go to war, unless you would see him in a cardinal’s skirts.”

“Never! It’s just that I won’t see you until the festivities for Lucrezia’s wedding. That’s three months. I think sometimes it was easier to be the mistress of a cardinal—you were home far more often.

“And I hated it, remember? Never fear, the time will go more swiftly than you think, then it is I who will miss you, for Ferrara is a long journey from here. “

 

At first, it seemed all right. She threw herself into helping Lucrezia prepare her trousseau, and the Pope kindly provided money so she would have more gowns, and fur cloaks, and anything else she would need for the journey to Ferrara. 

“I want to make sure you have all that you need and lack for nothing,” Alexander told her kindly, “She takes comfort in the fact that you will be beside her in the first few months of her marriage. She will be homesick for Rome and her family, which is no easy thing, as you know.”  
She put her arms around her uncle, and held him tightly. Alexander had his faults, but if you were family he would make sure you were well looked after. Had he not arranged a marriage for her that was not only politically advantageous, but was a love match as well?

At first the messengers that the pope sent out did not have much news, then the armies joined each other and the fighting began in earnest.   
Little resistance was being offered in towns like Aversa and Nola in the Kingdom of Naples. They knew better than to challenge the French king and his army.

Capua was not so fortunate, they put up a fight. The army was ruthless, and in their determination to take the city they killed everyone—men, women, children, the old, priests, monks, nuns—no one was spared. In the end six thousand people were killed, in effect wiping out the city.

Constanzia gave her messenger a glass of wine as she read the dispatch again. She could not believe it, how could they? How could Cesare?  
“Is it true then,” she asked the young soldier who had brought her the news, “Is the entire city gone, and no one is left?”

“For all intents and purposes, yes, my lady, it is true. The army was ruthless, they intended to fight and not quit until the city was taken. There may have been some who fled, but they destroyed the city as well as its inhabitants.”

She shook out twenty ducats from her purse. “Here, this is for you. Let no one know that we have spoken, or that you were within Rome’s walls. The news will be coming soon, I am sure. Rejoin the army, but if you do not wish to, I can give you more to begin a new life.”

He bowed and left the room, thinking that the news had greatly upset her. But he would not quit the army, he was exactly where he wanted to be.

That afternoon, the pope entered the gallery and found the three girls sitting in an alcove.

“Naples has been taken!” he declared, “Is that not wonderful news.”

Constanzia stood up. “It is indeed, if you approve of murder and rapine. The inhabitants of the city have been wiped out. They spared no one, no one, including nuns, monks, and priests. Do you find that good news, uncle?” She ran out of the room, sobbing.


	32. An Unlucky Victory Fit for a king

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alexander VI wonders what is wrong with Constanzia when she runs out of the room. Cesare returns from war, deathly ill, and Constanzia will not allow the Pope's physicians to bleed. Constanzia tells Lucrezia what happened to Perotto

“Lucrezia, do go see what is wrong with your cousin,” the Pope was clearly vexed and did not bother to hide it. "We have a celebration to prepare for. 

Lucrezia curtsied, then went to her cousin’s rooms. Something was clearly bothering Constanzia, perhaps the sack of Capua was the cause of it, but she suspected there was more to it.

Constanzia was lying on her bed, sobbing. She looked up and saw Lucrezia standing in the doorway, and held out her hand. “Cousin,” she said, and Lucrezia went to her side.

“Dearest, what is wrong? What has made you so unhappy? Is it truly what happened at Capua, or is it something else?”

Constanzia sat up, wrapped her arms around herself. “It is what happened to Capua, but you’re right, it is also something more. I miscarried last night, and I don’t know whether to be relieved or grieved. I cannot tell Cesare, I do not want him to know that I was pregnant, he may not let me go to Ferrara with you, and I want more than anything to leave Rome.”

“Who sent you word of what happened?”

“Like every other member of this family, I have spies, two of whom have followed Cesare’s army. When I found out what the French army had done to Capua, I could not bear it. I love Cesare, but I know he had a part. How could I have him in my bed again? How could any living creature do such a cruel thing to another? I am glad that Cesare no longer wears a cardinal’s skirts, but I find myself wishing that he was back in them, if it could have helped prevent what happened.”

“It couldn’t,” Lucrezia shook her blond head, “Even as a cardinal, he could have taken part. I do not understand war any better than you, but the wars in Italy have gone on for a long time, and will no doubt go on for longer. Louis is Duke of Milan now, and King of Naples. I wish that would be the end of things, but it won’t. Cesare will fight to establish his kingdom, and France is now the largest land holder in Italy. We can only watch, and be patient, and smile bravely when our men go off to war.”

“Lucrezia, I will tell you what I told Cesare—he will not see old bones. As much as he fights to gain territory, he doesn’t try nearly hard enough to gain allies. His condottiere are only hired guns at best, and will only support him for as long as it serves their ends. He’s always said that he will die in battle, and I believe that to be true.”

“But if he has the support of the Papacy, surely he will be able to hold on. That will be enough, won’t it?”

“Uncle is not a young man, and has a rather dissolute mode of living, does he not? How much longer will he live? Just think, if Cardinal Della Rovere secures the papacy, what will happen then? Della Rovere is no friend to the Borgias, without his support Cesare could lose everything. Cesare doesn’t even have his wife and daughter with her, Louis holds them hostage. He’s tried more than once to have them come to Rome, but Louis forbids it.”

“Maybe he doesn’t mind,” Lucrezia said crossly, “That marriage was for an alliance, and the alliance holds whether his wife is with him or not.”  
“Well, I worry for him, I even have dreams about it. I wish you were marrying someone other than Alfonso D’Este, but I think this will be a good thing for you. You will have your escape from Rome, and I will escape with you. Maybe I will take Marco to Genoa, so he can start to learn the duties he will inherit. I want to get away from Rome, too. It no longer feels like home here. Maybe I can meet someone, and get married—and not have to worry about his safety.”

 

On August 26, 1501, the marriage contract was signed. Rome celebrated, and at age twenty-one Lucrezia found herself married for the third time. She had secretly decided that after she had given him children, Alfonso should let her go her own way. She would never be in love with him, but this was as much an arrangement as it was a marriage. Ferrara had a lot of offer her, and she would be foolish not to take advantage. Maybe this marriage would not end tragically.

Cesare arrived in Rome in the middle of September. Constanzia was shocked at the way he looked. He was weak, he was unhealthy and tired. He lay in bed for nearly a week suffering from a high fever, too exhausted to receive visitors, his faithful Micheletto stationed outside the door.

Constanzia turned Marco over the care of his nurse and did not leave his bedside. The Pope sent his physicians to treat his son, but Constanzia would not allow them to bleed him. “No until he is stranger,” she said in tones that brooked no refusal, “I have seen weak men killed by being bled. I will not allow this until he is stronger—you can tell the Pope I said this.”

Alexander would have had Cesare removed from her home, but knew better. He was still not certain of the exact nature of the relationship between his son and his cousin, but the purchase of the new house and Constanzia moving in had removed all but a few doubts. At least he didn’t try to marry the chit, he comforted himself. He did not forget that Constanzia had an iron will that she inherited from her father, and from her mother, if he thought about it. Since the two seemed to be causing no harm, he had decided to let them alone—for now.

Though Constanzia suffered a few tense nights, constantly at his bedside, praying, her rosary always in her hand, Cesare slowly began to recover. He would eat coddled eggs and broth, but still could not stomach even a food as soft as bread. But he obediently drank the tisanes and infusions she gave him, and his sleep became restful and the fever at last was broken.

Lucrezia came to see him, somewhat taken aback by how thin and hollow eyed he had become. “Are you sure he’s getting better, he looks so weak, so frail. His eyes are like giant shadows in his face. I am afraid for him, Constanzia!  
”  
“Don’t be, if I can keep him in bed another week, he will be fully recovered. I would not allow him to be bled, and the pope was furious, but now he is almost well. Mama always sends me herbs for medicinal purposes, and remember, Turkish medicines go back to the ancient Greeks and Egyptians. I was only going to have him bled as a last resort, and thankfully there was no need. Some, Lucrezia, there is something I would discuss with you.”

She led her to her private veranda, the servants leaving them with cakes, wine, and fresh water. Lucrezia helped herself, her appetite was returning after the long ordeal of her marriage negotiations. Constanzia took only wine, and was silent for a long moment before she spoke.  
“Lucrezia, do you remember Perotto, one of our Spanish retainers? I had not thought about him for a long time until I suddenly remembered him.”

“Why yes, I do. Wasn’t he found drowned in the Tiber? I think I remember something like that. It was such a pity, he was one of the of the most loyal of our family servants.”

“Uncle sent him with your party to Pesaro, to keep you company as I remember. He was so funny, always laughing, always ready with a joke. He could always make me smile, even at my lowest moments. I almost wished that Uncle would have sent him with me, instead of you.”

“I’m glad he did, I had many dark days when I lived in Pesaro. I was so lonely, Giovanni was not much company, though he did try to get me with child. At first, he stopped for a while, I supposed he thought I was not catching because I was too young to conceive. After a year he began trying again, but still I did not conceive, it must have driven him mad because his wife first died in childbirth, so he knew he should be able to father a child on me.  
”  
“Tell me, Lucrezia, did you turn to anyone for comfort. Being married to Giovanni Sforza would have tried a saint.  
:  
“He wasn’t so bad, just dull. Then when he told me he was going to spy for the French, I was appalled. I mean, how could he violate the terms of the treaty he had signed? And he managed to bungle that badly, and the French told him they could no longer use him.

“And,” said Constanzia, pushing her to reveal what she suspected.

“Yes, I turned to Perotto, I thought no one would find out. It seemed so harmless, and so safe.”

“Somehow Cesare found out, and had him murdered, that was not so harmless. If I recall, I was not here, but one night, after he’d drunk a bottle of wine, he confessed to me that he killed him because he had gotten you pregnant. A stain on the family honor was how he put it. I was appalled but said nothing. Cesare has a cruel streak, and it frightens me sometimes. He is all about the protection and honor of this family, and I know he will always protect me, but…”

“But sometimes you wish he was other than he is. I will tell you, cousin, I long suspected that Perotto might have met his death at Cesare’s hands, but what could I do? I was a child, I was pregnant and afraid they would send me back to Giovanni. Perotto tried to persuade me to run away with him, but where could we go?”

“Now I’m being sent away again, but this time I go willingly. I will win over the court of Ferrara, and no one will deny me whatever I want. You will come with me and we will be the Borgia beauties and everyone will love us. I’ll find you a husband who is rich and handsome, and we will watch our children grow up.”

She kissed Constanzia, I must go now, I hear Cesare calling you. You must make our brother well so he can help us celebrate—my freedom at last.” 

 

 

 


	33. The Banquet of the Chestnuts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cesare comes back from campaigning seriously ill, and Constanzia must nurse him back to health. In the mean time, the delegation from Ferrara is in Rome, finalizing the many little things that must be done for Lucrezia's marriage. Cesare recovers and decides to throw a special celebration for family and friends. Hint: it involves Chestnuts (and is a little more historically accurate)

Constanzia picked up her skirts and ran towards Cesare’s room. A maid met her at the door, saying, “Madonna, the Lord Valentino, he insists on getting up.”

“I will take care of this, Pita. Go, fetch the doctor now.” As if it will do any good, she thought grimly, but you always underestimate me, Cesare.

She saw him on the bed, attempting to leave his bed despite the objections of the servants. She chose a simple way to deal with the matter, and pushed Cesare back down. “What do you think you are doing? I have not dragged you from death’s door and spent days nursing you to have you become sick again. This time, I will leave you to the mercy of the doctors.”

Cesare defiantly sat up, then collapsed back down on his pillow, his head spinning. “Send them out of the room,” he growled, and Constanzia nodded her head. One by one, the servants left.

A cloth was sitting in some pleasantly scented water. She wrung it out, sniffing at the light scent of mint. She lay her cool hand on his forehead, pleased that his fever had broken, and lay the cloth gently on his forehead. “Well, in spite of yourself, or due to my nursing, your fever has broken. The leeches wanted to bleed you, but you were too weak and I would not allow it. What manner of illness is this anyway, Cesare.”

“I cannot say for sure, except that it brought me down as we were preparing to leave. I had to be brought here in a litter, I was so weak. All sorts of maladies follow a campaigning army, my love, it seems that I lose more men to disease than in battle. And this happens at a more inopportune time, Lucrezia’s wedding, and I must help Father entertain the Ferrarese ambassadors.” He pushed himself up carefully on one elbow, “Has the ceremony been performed?”

“Yes, it has. All that remains are the formalities. I must say, I do not envy Lucrezia. Isabella D’Este hates her, and begrudges every little thing the duke and your father intends to do for her. I would swear that the D’Este was ready to drag the jewels that she was given out of her hand. Lucrezia’s only crime is that she is being an obedient daughter and marrying the choice of her father. And that she is young and beautiful. I am close to that bitch’s age but do you see me jealous? No. I love Lucrezia and I know the person she is.”

“Then, you must go to Ferrara with Lucrezia. I know she will have her ladies but you two have known each other since childhood, and she will need you.”

Oh, so I have been given permission to go—not that anything would have stopped me anyway. “That is what the Holy Father has said. Cesare, I think he suspects that he may not see her again. I do not often feel sorry for him, though Lucrezia is dear to all of us, this will hit him the hardest. I think he would almost have cancelled the wedding if he did not want this alliance so badly.”

Cesare felt a shiver run down his spine. That could be true for me, too. I killed Calvino Pallavicini because I could not bear to have Constanzia taken away from me. I killed Lucrezia’s useless husband Alfonso, too. But this time I am losing her for good, I know it and I feel helpless. I was in favor of this alliance because I thought it advantageous, but now I am not so sure and it is too late.

“It is too late for that, now, my love. I think Lucrezia is going to a place where she will be safe. All we can do now is wish for her happiness.”  
“Well, then, if you wish to make her happy you must make her brother well, just spend another day or two in your bed, and you must start eating. I know you do not like to receive people, but when you are up to it, you can dress and receive the Ferrarese ambassadors in the drawing room. They will see that you have been ill and will not bother you for long. When you are better you can show off your skills at bull fighting and horse racing, just be careful to let them win and not try to take precedence over them.”

Cesare scowled at her, then smiled. “Where is my son?”

“He is waiting for you outside. He has been asking about his papa, so I will have the nurse bring him in.” She kissed him and stroked his hair, “I love you, you stubborn Spaniard.”

When she left, Cesare was walking around the room with his son, speaking to him in Valencian, and singing the songs his nurse use to sing to him. Soon he realized he’d tired himself, and went back to his bed, Marco cradled in his arms.

Constanzia came back to check on him after a while, and found him cuddled up with Marco, peacefully asleep and the trace of illness that had remained on his face almost gone.

“My lady,” a maid came and whispered to her, “The Lady Lucrezia is here, shall I show her to the drawing room?”

“No, bring her here, she will want to see this,” Constanzia smiled, “And If he wakes, he will want to see her, too.” The maid smiled, and nodded, she understood.

“Constanzia I have news,” Lucrezia said as she came up the stairs, but she shushed her. “Oh,” she said as she looked in the room, “Oh, I so seldom see Cesare at peace like this, Marco so much looks like the two of you, he is truly the most beautiful little boy. I am sure that he will not settle for anything less than a princess for his wife.”

“A princess would only be worthy, indeed,” Cesare woke and held one arm out so that he could embrace his sister. This damn fever has crippled me, and my nurse will not let me out of bed today.” He looked meaningfully at Constanzia and smiled.

“Indeed, you gave me a bad scare, my love, but I have returned you to health. Cooperate with me on this, and tomorrow you may dance all night if you are foolish enough to want to.”

“Now that you are well, Father will want to throw a celebration. There will be dancing as well as a feast. But first, Cesare, Father wants to do an inspection of the north. Don’t worry, you will only be gone for a week, then the celebrations will start.

“He would at least give me a chance to recover. He tends to forget that illness is not cured by God alone. That said, I think that I am going to arrange a little treat for us.” Cesare lay back on his bed and smiled.

“Tell us what, Cesare, please,” Lucrezia begged.

“Yes, tell tell,” Constanzia said.

“No, this will be surprise, but I will give you one hint—your sister in law would not wish to attend, now my son and I need our lunch. Please have it brought to us.”

 

That evening he was so much improved that Constanzia relented when Cesare told her he wanted to attend that night’s festivities. Constanzia wore gold brocade while Cesare usual black velvet. He showed her how much he was improved when he took her to bed that night, his vigor taking her breath away. It felt good to lie in his arms, just the two of them.

He traced her breast with a slender finger, then moved the finger down to tease her privates, loving the look on her face when she responded to his touch.

She took his hand and moved it. “No, I want to sleep. Staying awake until three is too late, but I’ll have to get used to it while your father entertains the delegation from Ferrara. Poor Lucrezia, it’s going to take a toll on her, but she hates to disappoint your father. I, on the other hand, seem to have more luck saying no.”

“Like you think you have luck with saying ‘no’ to me, eh? I will show you, signora, just how much your ‘no’ is worth.”

During the next few weeks Cesare was back in full health. He spent it showing off, fighting bulls, wrestling, participating in horse races. As Constanzia warmed him, he took care not to take precedence over the Ferrarese, or win too frequently when racing or performing feats of strength. 

Lucrezia kept late hours entertaining with her father. Constanzia would beg the Pope’s permission to retire, and wished Lucrezia would do the same. She, who was usually so lovely, began to look pale and Constanzia took her to task, telling her that she should take better care of herself, reminding her that she had a long and arduous journey facing her.

On October thirty first, Cesare invited the Pope, Lucrezia, Constanzia and the rest of family to a banquet. Those whom he thought from the Ferrara delegation would enjoy it, were invited, along with several of his friends. Also conspicuous were fifty of Rome’s finest courtesans, something noticed by the attendees of the banquet.

After the meal the candles were lowered, and the guests began dancing amongst themselves and the servants. The prostitutes removed their clothing and the guests watched as a bowl of candied chestnuts was brought. The servants began to toss the chestnuts and a competition began between the guests and the courtesans to see who could gather the most chestnuts.

Lucrezia watched along with her father and her brother as guests and courtesans competed to pick up the chestnuts. Costly prizes, such as boots, hats, silk mantles, were given based on the number of chestnuts retrieved.

The guests finally left at four, and Cesare picked Costanzia up and carried her to his bedroom. He undid her laces and hooks and pulled off her garments and let them lie on the floor. He took her in his arms, kissing her, whispering, “Now, was that not entertainment, my love?”

“Too bad you didn’t invite the College of Cardinals and ask them to participate, that would have been entertainment, indeed. When they hear of this, the whole consistory will be jealous.”

All through the holidays, Pope overindulged in one thing or another. You are going to make yourself sick, uncle, you will worry Lucrezia and that would not be good.

Christmas came and went. She gave Cesare a fine Arabian stallion, and a saddle and bridle of red leather, trimmed with gold. He gave the girls bolts of white and silver brocade, and fine necklaces of diamonds. The Pope gave the children rosaries of gold and pearls, along with bibles with gem incrusted covers.

After the family feast, Cesare and Constanzia held a private celebration of their own. Marco was sent to his cousins’ nursery, and they made love in Constanzia’s finely furnished bed. Then, to music being played on a lute, discreetly hidden, Cesare and Constanzia danced naked through her house, making love on the sofa, on the table, or wherever they pleased.

“Who is going to please me the way you do” He whispered in her ear. “Who knows so well what I like? Who has no inhibitions and lets me do whatever I want. You must promise me that you will not marry, that you will be eternally mine, and no one else’s. Promise.”

Constanzia looked at him, “You know I cannot make that promise. Uncle could find a match for me, or maybe even father. Uncle married me to Calvino for an alliance between Genoa and Rome. It could happen again, Cesare, just like it’s happening to Lucrezia. Tell me, who thought of this match?”

He sat down on a divan and pulled her onto his lap. “Father, and me. Louis had his hand in it, he convinced Ercole and break Alfonso’s engagement and marry Lucrezia instead. It’s all about politics, my love, and you’re right, if a good match is found, they will marry you, too. I just don’t want you to.”

“I don’t want to marry again, Cesare. I like having my freedom. Daughters are nothing more than commodities on the marriage market. You and Uncle sold Lucrezia to Ferrara, and now you should live with it, Cesare. I pray every day that she will be happy, I hope you do the same.”


End file.
